Prison of my Mind
by TMara
Summary: The events during the final lair cause Erik to fall into deep depression, and as a consequence, he develops a nervous fever. His life and his mental health are in danger. When Christine finally realizes that it is him she loves, she learns about his precarious condition. Will her love be strong enough to help him recover?
1. Over

Ta ta - Surprise! New story! This story will continue, once my previous one is completed. I hope you will like this one as well, even though it starts out a bit depressing. I am looking forward to hearing from all of you what you think about it!

Now, without further ado, let's get to the story, but please keep in mind, that nothing has changed, I still don't own anything or anybody...

Chapter 1 – Over

"It's over now!" Erik cried, tears streaming down his naked face. "Over, over, over!" That was all he could think about, for he had truly lost everything. There was now nothing left for him on this godforsaken planet. His whole world had finally crumbled, and now it was all over: his hopes, his dreams, his chance at happiness, his friendship with Christine, his music, his life. One night had ended it all. One night had taken away what little light there had been in his miserable existence, and all that remained now was night: eternal darkness, cold and lonely, and the realization that his Christine hated him, despised him, thought him capable of taking her against her will.

Erik groaned. He would never forget her words, those cruel words that she had spit at him tonight. In his mind Christine would forever repeat all those angry, hateful things she had said to him.

"Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?" he heard Christine scream at him again one moment, the next moment he thought she hissed at him again, "it's in your soul, that the true distortion lies!" Then she would accuse him, "Angel of Music, you deceived me!" or tell him openly how much she hated him. "The tears I might have shed for your dark fate, grow cold and turn to tears of **HATE**!"

Oh, it was truly all over. Her false friend she had called him, thus making it clear, that even their shared past was now tainted in her mind. She would not even be able to look back with fond memories at all those years they had spent together, their music lessons, their former friendship. He had destroyed even that for her – and for himself. For he knew now without a doubt that the only emotions she would ever feel when being reminded of him would be disgust and contempt.

"But she kissed you," a small voice within himself tried to remind him. Erik sneered. "Not out of her own free will," he was convinced. "Because I did exactly what she expected me to do, I forced her, not physically, but by threatening that boy of hers. And she could not have made it more clear how utterly disgusted she was by her act." He laughed at himself. "What had she said, before coming on to me and kissing me? God give me courage! That's what she said! She prayed for courage, so that she could fight off her disgust long enough to kiss me! No, she did not do it out of kindness, or even out of pity, she only did it because it was the only way to save that boy's life. Under normal circumstances, she would never have dreamed of touching her lips to mine! She could not even have stomached the thought of doing so, for even under these dire circumstances, she needed help from above, she needed her God to give her courage, so that she would be able to go through with it! I am that despicable to her, that disgusting, that loathsome!"

He groaned again. "Over," he repeated. "It's over now. Everything is over now." And in a way he even understood why it was over. Why the girl who had admired her Angel of Music had grown to hate and despise him so. Why she thought his soul was distorted and called him a false friend. Oh, he understood only too well, how he had managed to kill every last trace of friendship and warm feelings within her, but it was too late now. For even if he changed, if he tried from now on to be the kind of man she could have liked, at least as a friend, she would never believe that he had changed so completely, and she would never be able to overcome her hatred. Not after all he had done to her and to this... ridiculous boy of hers.

It was truly over. Not just Christine, his whole life lay in shambles. His home, his hideaway, was gone, the Opéra Populaire was going up in flames, he had nowhere to go, nothing to live for, no purpose, nothing.

"I should have just stayed in my lair and waited for the mob to kill me," Erik thought, but for some reason he did not turn back to face the mob and meet his end. He kept running. He had no idea where he was running, or even why he was running from the mob, when the fate that awaited him at the hands of the angry people could in no way be worse than what he was going through at the moment. He just kept running.

In his mind Christine once again screamed at him. "Tears of hate!" she told him, pointing at the tears that were running down her lovely cheeks. "False friend!" she hollered at him angrily. "It's in your soul that the true distortion lies!" Erik put his hands on his ears, as if that way he could stop the screaming, as if in doing so he could ban those horrible memories from his mind forever.

"Oh Christine, forgive me, forgive me!" he cried. "I understand, truly, now I understand, why you are so mad at me. If only I could go back in time, if only I could do things right this time, if only I had not hurt you so badly by threatening to kill the man that you love!" But he knew that this was not possible. Christine had seen him at his worst and there was now nothing in this world he could do to make her forget that and forgive him for his sins.

"Over!" Erik wailed again, realizing that despite everything he had suffered in his life so far, despite everything he had gone through, he had never felt so hurt. This was by far the worst. Never before had he been so utterly hopeless, so utterly depressed, so – empty. As if all life had left him, as if he were nothing but a walking shell, a shadow of his former self.

He continued running, not paying attention to the heat and the smoke, not even realizing that once or twice he came perilously close to walking into one of his own traps. He had no idea where he was going, nor did he waste one single thought on what he would do now. It did not really matter, there was no future for him anyway, he could just as well stop running, but something made him go on. It was as if he were running on automatic.

Erik finally reached an exit and left the burning building. The cold night air hit his face at the same time as the glare from the raging fire, but he ignored them. None of that mattered, none of that made a difference to his failed existence. "Hate," he mumbled, "disgust, that's what she feels for me now." And he shuddered as his mind once again repeated every single angry word Christine had yelled at him that night.

Erik kept running. He had to get away – away from this place where his life had fallen apart, away from these hurtful memories, away from the pain, the hurt and cold that he felt enveloping his broken heart. Away from the voices in his mind that kept screaming at him. "False friend! You deceived me! It's in your soul that the true distortion lies! Tears of hate! Hate! Hate!"

Erik groaned. There really was no point in running. He would never get that voice and those words out of his mind. Those had caused him more pain than the most vicious beatings at the hands of his gypsy master way back in his youth. Those beatings had left ugly scars as well, but they had only hurt his body. Christine's words had hurt his soul. They had inflicted wounds that would never heal. His soul would now bleed forever.

"Over!" Erik sobbed. He felt exhausted, drop-dead tired, but his feet kept running. He did not care, where they carried him, he did not even bother to check his bearings. It did not really matter, where he would be ending up. One place was as good or bad as the other. Truth be told, he did not really want to go anywhere. All he wanted was to drop down and die. But somehow his feet kept running, on and on, as if they had a place in mind, as if they knew of a destination that he needed to reach.

Finally Erik arrived in front of a building, and without consciously thinking about it, he entered and ran up two flights of stairs. With a loud thud he finally collapsed against the door to an apartment. Everything went black and the voices in his mind finally went silent.

Erik did not notice that an inhabitant of the apartment in front of which he had collapsed came out to see what had caused the noise. He did not hear that person calling for another one, he did not feel two men lifting him up and carrying him inside, and he did not see their worried looks as they realized the condition he was in. Darkness had finally claimed him and had put his troubled mind at peace – at least for the moment.

Xxxx

Inside the apartment, Nadir frowned at Erik. "He is burning up," he informed his loyal manservant Darius. "His forehead is boiling hot and he is sweating profusely. I have no idea what could have caused this condition."

"Can we help him?" Darius asked nervously. "This looks to me as if he would need a doctor, ..."

Nadir sadly shook his head. "We cannot call for a doctor, Darius," he reminded his servant. "You know pretty well that that would mean they would arrest him. Even though he killed that man, Buquet, in self-defense, nobody will believe him, especially since that Vicomte seems to see him as his personal nemesis after what has happened at the masquerade. No, we cannot do that, we cannot deliver him into the hands of the authorities. We have to try and do our best to help him. It's his best chance at survival."

Darius nodded. He understood. But he wished things were different. He wished his master's friend would be able to live a normal life, that he would not have to hide in shadows because of his deformed face. He wished that poor sick man could get the treatment and the medical attention he needed.

It was a long night for the two men. They were taking turns at their sick friend's bedside, trying their best to lower his body temperature, or at the very least to keep his fever from rising even higher. They could not replace the wet rags, that they had soaked in ice-water fast enough. They had wrapped Erik's whole body in ice-cold wet rags, they were putting little ice-cubes on his chest, but all they managed to do was to keep his temperature from going up even further.

At one point, their patient became delirious. He seemed to relive some traumatic experience once again. "Over," he repeated endlessly. "It's over now... everything is over now. Oh Christine, forgive, forgive! Noooo!" Then he began to sob. "False friend," he whimpered, "you deceived me. Tears of hate! It's in your soul, that the true distortion lies!"

"Hate!" the sick man raged. "Hate and disgust, and fear that I might rape her. That's all she feels for me."

Nadir and Darius looked at each other. What could have caused such deep despair, such utter hopelessness?

"Something terrible must have happened," Nadir sadly commented. He had a feeling, he knew what it was. He had been extremely concerned when he had noticed that his friend's feelings for his pupil and protégée, the beautiful young ballerina and singer Christine Daaé had changed from fatherly/friendly into something deeper and stronger. He had feared then that disaster was about to happen, for he knew how the world in general reacted to Erik's deformed features. How could Erik expect a woman, a member of the fairer sex, to be able to endure such a beastly sight? No, not only to endure it, to look upon it with love, to be able to look beyond the grim exterior and discover the man behind it. True, Christine already knew Erik, after all those years he had taught her, she must have got an idea of his true personality, his caring, loving, softer side. And she did harbor certain romantic feelings for her Angel. But did that mean, that she would be able to accept Erik, once she knew the truth? She was still so young, so immature, learning the true nature of the entity she perceived to be a beautiful angel, would certainly be a shock for her.

As it turned out, Nadir had been right about this and Christine's first encounter with her Angel had ended badly. Erik had not given up, though, especially since a young suitor had presented himself in the person of the Vicomte de Chagny, by whom Erik had felt threatened. The fear of losing his beloved to this other man, had then driven Erik to more and more extreme measures. Nadir shuddered as he remembered the incident during opening night of "Il Muto", and especially the scandal Erik had caused at the masquerade ball on New Year's Eve.

And last night had been the much anticipated premiere of Erik's opera "Don Juan Triumphant". Nadir knew that Erik had planned something special for that night, some desperate last attempt to win Christine's affections. He also knew that Erik had feared – or probably known – that the Vicomte was planning something as well. Erik had therefore warned Nadir to stay away from the Opéra Populaire, he had hinted at the possibility of things getting a bit ugly, and maybe even dangerous during the performance. "I will feel calmer, if at least I do not have to worry about your safety," Erik had cryptically told him.

Nadir had followed this advice and stayed away, but now he had a feeling as if it might have been better to attend that performance, to be there, to maybe be able to do something that would have prevented whatever catastrophe must have happened, for it was beginning to dawn on him that Erik's illness was not caused by a virus or by exposure to extreme cold, but by some traumatic event. His friend's fever was a nervous one, and from the words Erik spoke in his delirium, it was not hard to guess that Christine was somehow involved in what ever had hit Erik.

Nadir cursed under his breath. He should have seen this coming. Heck, in a way he had seen this coming. The Daaé-woman was almost twenty years Erik's junior, pretty and talented, she had her whole life in front of her. Why would she want to tie herself to somebody like Erik, who could only give her a life in the shadows, who would never be able to walk with her in the sunshine, to be at her side during an opening night party, who she could never introduce to her colleagues as her husband. It could not have worked. It had been so obvious. Why, oh why had Erik not seen it? Or rather, why had Erik chosen to ignore those facts? And why on earth had he himself not tried harder to dissuade Erik from pursuing that girl, to make him understand that all he could hope for was her friendship, and that he should try his best not to lose that as well?

"Oh Erik," Nadir sighed, "why did it have to come to that? Why did you not listen to reason?" But he knew the answer: Love. Erik's love and desire for that girl was what had caused this disaster. The final realization that she could never return his feelings must have sent Erik overboard and caused his raging fever.

But how had this happened? What exactly had transpired between these two last night – during the performance? Before it? During the interval? Nadir had no idea.

When Darius brought in the morning newspaper, Nadir's eyes widened in shock. Right there, on the front page, was a huge picture of the Opéra Populaire – burning up. And above the picture there was a headline in large, bold letters, reading "Madman Sets Opéra on Fire and Abducts Soprano".

"Oh no," he groaned, then he began to read. His heart went out to his sick friend as he read that there had been plans to ambush the "Phantom" and get him caught, but that despite all these precautions and a house full of gendarmes, said Phantom had still managed to appear on stage and sing a mesmerizingly sensual duet with the prima donna, Mademoiselle Christine Daaé, who must at one point have guessed who he was, for she ripped off his mask and exposed his ugly, deformed face to all the attendees, but when the gendarmes had moved in to pry her away from the fiend and arrest the latter, the Phantom had somehow crashed the huge chandelier into the audience, thus starting the fire that was still not quite under control, and during the ensuing chaos had managed to disappear with the girl. Several people, including the Vicomte de Chagny, had gone in search of them, but while the young soprano had been safely returned to the care of her foster mother, one Madame Antoinette Giry, there had been no trace of the monster. One ballerina had supposedly found one of his masks in the cellars of the building, but that was it.

Nadir sighed. What a story! He still had no idea, how the girl had gotten away, and what exactly had happened between her and Erik, but it was obvious that last night had been a culmination of sorts, a decisive moment, and obviously things had not gotten well for his friend. It seemed as if Erik would now have to come to terms with the fact that he had lost the girl for good.


	2. Meeting

Hi everybody,

Many thanks to all of you for trying out this story, for reading it, for putting it on alert, for adding it to favorites, and especially for reviewing it. I would therefore like to thank You Are Love, icanhearthedrums, MarilynKC and Filhound, who have already reviewed the first chapter. I hope you will continue to enjoy this story and others will find it worth their time as well. I am certianly trying to keep it interesting.

Now, that we have seen how Erik, Nadir and Darius are doing, let's check on our ladies, Christine and the Girys...

And please keep in mind that I do not anything or anybody!

Chapter 2 – Meeting

Mme. Giry looked once more at the peacefully sleeping girl, then quietly closed the door to the guest room, making sure she would not wake Christine. The poor girl needed all the rest she could get, after all she had been through.

Mme. Giry knew that the plan to use Christine as bait for the Phantom had already taken a huge toll on her charge. Even though Christine now was scared of the man who had been her teacher and Angel of Music for so many years, even though she knew he had killed that stage-hand Buquet, she had been reluctant to betray him in such a way. Mme. Giry knew that even though Erik had in a way deceived and betrayed Christine for years by pretending to be a celestial being, when in reality he was nothing but a man, a rather hideous one, at that, and one with a violent past, Christine had been very hesitant to pay him back with betrayal and deception. There had been some lingering sense of loyalty in the girl, some desire to keep him safe, not to deliver him to the authorities, which would mean a lengthy stay in prison, lots of humiliation, and finally an execution.

Mme. Giry sighed. The Vicomte's plan had not appealed to her either, and not just because of her own history with the Phantom – Erik. She, too, had not wanted to see him caught, but just like Christine, she had understood the necessity of somehow making sure he would not be able to hurt anybody else. Erik recently had seemed to have turned completely mad and lost all sense of how far he could go. He needed to be stopped. So she had not objected to the Vicomte's strategy, even though she had been afraid that Christine might be put in harm's way as well. After all, the whole plan was not without risk.

When Erik had suddenly appeared on stage instead of Piangi, her worst fears had come true and her heart had almost stopped. She had known immediately who he was. Whether or not Christine had realized it at once, Mme. Giry did not know. Christine might have been too immersed in her music to notice her partner was not Piangi, or if she had noticed, she was too professional to let her fear show. She had carried on with the performance, concentrating on her singing. But then, something strange had happened. Erik had somehow fallen out of the role he played, he had begged Christine once more to love him, and while Christine had seemed immobile and unable to react at first, probably too shocked at what was happening, she had at last found the strength to rip Erik's mask off, thus exposing his hideous features to the entire audience.

Then all hell had broken lose. The chandelier had come down, setting the house on fire, and Erik had disappeared with Christine through a trapdoor. Whatever had happened next, Mme. Giry had no idea. She had been terrified, fearing that Erik might somehow punish Christine for the humiliation she had put him through. She had had the impression as if the man had finally crossed the line between sanity and madness and that he could not be trusted any longer not to harm Christine. She therefore had shown the Vicomte the way to Erik's lair, hoping that the young man would be able to somehow rescue Christine from the clutches of her former teacher.

Mme. Giry sadly shook her head. She still was not sure if she had done the right thing, if her, too, betraying Erik, had not been a mistake worse than any of the other mistakes that had been made by everybody involved over the past couple of years. But her first priority had been Christine. She had wanted to keep the girl safe, for in a way, Christine was the victim in all that. Christine had not chosen to be the deformed man's pupil and protégé. Erik had made that decision for her, using her father's story of the Angel of Music to establish a relationship between them. Christine had not chosen to have Erik, a hideous looking genius, pretty much twice her age, pursue her, when her heart had understandably ached to be with the handsome young Vicomte, who was not only much closer to her in age, but also her dear childhood sweetheart. Mme. Giry had known that since she had to take sides between her two protégés, she had to be on Christine's side.

She had then done what she could, helping people find a way out of the burning building and tending to injured ones, all the while nervous about Christine's fate and praying that the girl would be safe, that the man that had once been her teacher, would not be so far gone yet, that he would not shy away from hurting her.

After what had seemed like forever, she had finally been approached by the Vicomte, who had put his fiancée into her care. "I cannot take her home, Mme. Giry,"he had said. "It would not be appropriate. I therefore ask you to chaperon her, until Christine and I can get married."

The Vicomte had looked positively ashen, and Christine had been terribly shaken as well, their clothes were dripping wet, and they had both been in need of help. Mme. Giry therefore had not wasted any time, she had packed up Christine and brought her to her home. The poor girl had been close to passing out from exhaustion or shock or whatever, and Mme. Giry had thought it best not to bother her with any questions. She had just patted Christine's arm reassuringly and promised her that everything would be fine eventually.

The young girl had been sobbing during the whole carriage ride, murmuring things like, "it was terrible" or "oh my God!", thus making it clear that whatever had happened between her and the two men that had eventually resulted in her being able to escape from Erik must have been a nightmare.

Therefore, after drawing Christine a hot bath to make sure she would not catch a cold, Mme. Giry had put a few drops of a tranquillizer into Christine's tea, to help the girl relax.

"It was terrible, Mme. Giry," the young woman once again wailed, while sipping her tea. "I must tell you what happened, how utterly frightening..."

"Sh...," Mme. Giry had tried to calm her. "There will be time for that tomorrow. Now you need to sleep. You need to relax and to forget for a while what happened tonight. Tomorrow, after a good night's sleep, you will be better able to tell me everything. Now you are too exhausted..."

By then the tranquillizer had started to take effect, and Christine was feeling drowsy, so it had not been difficult to put her to bed. A few moments later, Christine had been fast asleep, and thankfully, she was still asleep hours later, when the sun was rising on a new day.

Meg tiptoed towards her mother. "Is Christine all right?" she asked. "Has she not been harmed by... him?"

Mme. Giry smiled at her daughter. "I think she will be fine," she reassured Meg. "She does not seem to have caught a cold, and as far as I can tell, she has not been harmed physically, although it is hard to tell what last night might have done to her emotionally. But time and lots of rest as well as her fiancé's love should be able to help her overcome even that."

The two ladies were about to enjoy a late breakfast when the doorbell rang. Mme. Giry went to answer it and found a young messenger boy, holding out an envelope to her. "I am to give this to a Mme. Antonia Ciry," the boy tried to read the name on the envelope. "Is that you?"

Mme. Giry suppressed a grin at this mutilation of her name, but nodded. She quickly grasped the note, dropping a small coin in the boy's hand. Once the boy had left, she took a deep breath. Who could have sent that note? Certainly not the Vicomte. If Christine's fiancé wanted to communicate with them, he certainly would have sent one of his liveried servants. That practically left only one person. But what could Erik want from her now? Had he guessed that it was her who had shown the Vicomte the way to his lair and was he going to chastise her for her betrayal? Or had he learned that Christine was staying with her and would he ask her to deliver the girl into his hands?

"God forgive me for only thinking the worst of him now," Mme. Giry prayed, "but Erik has been acting so strangely recently, he truly has not been himself for quite a while, and I must consider the possibility that his unrequited love has driven him mad and that he now truly is dangerous and unpredictable."

She finally sat down again and cautiously opened the envelope. Her eyes widened when she saw the unfamiliar handwriting. What was that about? She had been so certain the message was coming from Erik! She quickly read the short note:

_Meet me at 12:00 p.m. at the Jardin du Luxembourg, in front of the central fountain, in a matter of life or death – N._

Mme. Giry frowned. N.? Who was N.? Then realization hit. Erik's friend, that former Persian police officer, his name was something like Nammir or Nader or something like that. She had met him briefly once or twice, and if she remembered correctly, Erik had once given her this man's address, just in case. She had no idea where that slip of paper had ended up, but apparently Erik had told his friend how to reach her as well, and for some reason this gentleman now wanted to see her and discuss something with her.

Mme. Giry wondered what he could possibly want from her. "A matter of life or death" he had written. Could this... could this have something to do with Erik? Was Erik injured, or worse, had he been caught? Did he need help of any kind? She sighed. A few months ago, she would have been only too willing to help Erik, but now? Now she had come to fear the man and his obsession with Christine. Now she feared that he had lost his mind completely and had reached a point where he was beyond help. Maybe being caught by the authorities and put out of his misery was the best that could happen to Erik. Maybe cutting all ties with him was also the best for herself, and most definitely for her beloved surrogate daughter Christine.

Then she remembered what the man had gone through when he had been nothing but a boy. How starved and malnourished he had been when she had first seen him in that gypsy camp, how cruelly his master had beaten him and humiliated him in front of a cheering crowd by making him show his horrible face to the public. Under these circumstances, was it really Erik's fault, if he had finally snapped? Wasn't he a victim just as much as Christine, didn't he deserve her compassion and help as well? She resolutely stood, knowing that she would never be able to forgive herself if Erik truly needed help and she denied it.

She looked at the wall clock. They had gone to bed late and therefore slept in. It was already past eleven. If she wanted to meet Erik's friend, she had to leave soon.

"I am going on an errand," Mme. Giry informed Meg. "Do not wake Christine. The longer she sleeps, the better. She needs as much rest as she can get. If she wakes, before I am home, do not bother her with questions, just make breakfast for her and tell her I'll be back soon."

Meg nodded. "Who was that note from?" she asked. "Does it have anything to do with this errand of yours?"

"I don't quite know yet myself what it is all about," Mme. Giry told her daughter. "But I am about to find out. Don't mention that to Christine either. Avoid anything that could agitate her, is that understood?"

Meg promised to follow her mother's orders and Mme. Giry was soon on the way.

Xxx

A few minutes before 12:00 o'clock Mme. Giry arrived at the Jardin du Luxembourg. She immediately spotted the Persian gentleman standing in front of the fountain, watching the ducks.

"You wanted to see me, Monsieur?" she asked nervously, shocked at how tired and drawn the man looked. "Is something the matter?"

"Not here," Nadir whispered, offering her his arm and leading her to a more quiet corner of the park.

Once he was sure that they were far enough away from other visitors that they would not be overheard, Nadir asked, "the girl, Mademoiselle Christine, she is with you, is she not?" And as Mme. Giry nodded, he continued, "did she tell you anything about... last night? What has happened between her and..."

He did not finish the sentence, but Mme. Giry understood even so what he meant. "No," she told the Persian. "She did try to tell me something last night, but she was terribly shaken, and she was in danger of catching a cold, her clothes were all wet, so I thought it best to put her to bed and give her a tranquillizer to help her sleep. Why... why do you ask?" she inquired nervously. "Is there something about last night I should know? Something she might not tell me?"

Nadir sighed. This was not helpful at all. He had hoped Mme. Giry would be able to tell him what had sent Erik over the edge, what had caused the condition his young friend was in, so that he might think of a way to help Erik.

"No," he told her quietly. "I only know what was in the papers this morning. And that does not give me the slightest clue what could be the reason for ..."

He shook his head sadly, thinking of Erik, who was lying in his home, delirious, feverish, still fighting for his life, despite his own and Darius' continued efforts to bring down is fever. Earlier this morning he had sent Darius to procure a few substances, which he had used to concoct a brew that was sometimes used in his home country of Persia to help break a high fever, and before leaving for this meeting with Mme. Giry he had managed to make Erik swallow a mouthful of that medicine. He prayed that this brew would be helping to lower Erik's fever, but even if his friend miraculously survived this illness, even if Nadir and Darius managed to cure Erik's body, would they be able to help him fight his depression, which had caused the illness in the first place?

"What is it you are not telling me?" Mme. Giry's words interrupted Nadir's thoughts. "I assume that you do have some kind of information as to where... I mean what has happened to..."

Nadir nodded. "Yes," he admitted. "And he needs help. Urgently."

Mme. Giry gasped. "Don't beat around the bush, Monsieur," she told Nadir. "Tell me, what you know. I assume you have a guest staying at your home right now, correct? Or at least you had a visitor last night... no, don't deny it," she continued, silencing Nadir, who was about to interrupt her. "I have guessed as much from your behavior. So what is it this visitor of yours needs, and what makes you think I might be able – and willing – to provide that help for him?"

Nadir sighed. "I know you have no reason to help him right now, not after he traumatized the girl, your foster daughter, like that. I understand if you fear him now and do not want anything to do with him, but please believe me, he may have lost his way and he may have done terrible things as of late, but deep down he is still a decent man. You have been his friend for years, please do not give up on him now, give him a chance." He gave her a pleading look. "Before it is too late," he added.

Mme. Giry gasped. "Before it is too late?" she repeated hesitantly. "Is... Is Erik injured or something? The fire... or the Vicomte...?"

Nadir shook his head. "It's worse than that," he admitted. "If it were only a physical problem, I would not be worried. But the boy is suffering emotionally. He is deeply depressed. And this depression must have caused a nervous fever."

Nadir gave Mme. Giry a pointed look. "He is delirious," he told her. "Darius and I tried our best to get his fever down, but so far we have not been successful. If we don't succeed soon, he will..."

He looked down. "Die..." Mme Giry whispered.

Nadir nodded. "Yes," he admitted. "But even if he miraculously recovers, he will still be in danger. His depression is so deep and complete, I fear he might be suicidal, or it might throw him into another bout of nervous fever shortly after his recovery."

He paused, trying to hide the fact that he was fighting tears. "That's why," he finally told Mme. Giry. "Why I hoped you would be able to tell me what happened last night. To give me some idea why he is so depressed. I know," he waved away Mme. Giry's attempt of an explanation. "The girl. Of course she does not want him, especially after the way he behaved in recent months, but is that all? Is it just her rejection, what has caused this depression, or is there more? Has she said or done anything that has hurt him even more deeply than the fact that she does not want to become his wife?"

Mme. Giry stared at Nadir. "Are you trying to tell me that Christine might be responsible for …. for … whatever mental problem … he... is developing? I am sorry to hear that he is in such a terrible condition, and I do not wish him ill, truly I don't. But I cannot help you with this. I will not interrogate Christine and get every single dirty detail of what exactly happened between all three of them last night out of her. I have to think of her first, and believe me, she is quite shaken as well. So, no, unless she tells me something out of her own free will, I am afraid..." She closed her eyes in frustration. What a mess this was! She wished nothing more than to help both her protégés, Erik and Christine, but if that was not possible, if the best interests of these two were as diametrically opposed to each other as they were, then Christine had to be the one, she would help.


	3. Talking

So, there it is, the next chapter of my new story. Thank you all for reading, for putting on alert or adding to favorites, and very special thanks to all of you who have already reviewed this new story! I hope you all will like it just as much as my previous ones1

Well, I know you are all worried about Erik, but we have to see first, how Christine reacts, once she will wake up. Next chapter we will see, if Nadir and Darius can save Erik's life, I promise! (Ha, ha, as if I would ever kill him!)

Anyway, here is the new chapter, and please keep in mind, that these characters and situations do not belong to me, but to people like Leroux, ALW, Kay, etc.

Chapter 3 – Talking

Nadir resignedly closed his eyes. "I am sorry," he told Mme. Giry. "I should not have asked. You are of course right. We have to consider the girl's feelings. She is a victim as well, and an innocent one, at that, something that in all honesty cannot be said about Erik. I therefore won't keep you any longer. Your charge probably needs you just as much now as Erik needs me."

Mme. Giry nodded. "I am sorry, too," she admitted. "That I could not help you. I just hope Erik will be strong enough to deal with …. her rejection." She sighed, remembering that Erik might not even live long enough to come to terms with this development. "Will you,..." she asked hesitantly. "Will you... keep me informed? Let me know how... when...?"

"Yes," Nadir promised. He understood very well, how torn the woman in front of him was, how much she wanted to be able to keep both her protégés out of harm's way, and how hard it was for her to take sides. "I will give you notice of any changes in his condition." He took Mme. Giry's hand in both of his and looked her in the eyes. "But you, will you also promise that you inform me, if you do learn anything from Mademoiselle Christine? No, ..." he added, anticipating any objections from her. "I did not mean that you should question her, bother her in any way, but just in case... I mean, it is possible that she might mention something or other, even without being prompted to do so?"

Mme. Giry nodded. "I can promise you that. In case she reveals anything of what happened last night of her own free will, I will send word to you and we can meet again and discuss it." She hesitated. "Erik once gave me your address, Monsieur," she confessed, "but I fear I might have misplaced it."

Nadir smiled at her warmly. "Thank you for your willingness to help," he said, pulling out a notebook and a pen. He quickly wrote his name and address down, tore out the page and handed it to Mme. Giry. "This is where you can reach me, if you have anything to tell me. Now I think we both should go home and attend to our charges."

Xxxx

When Mme. Giry returned home, she found Christine awake. "Maman will soon be back," she heard Meg's cheerful voice the moment she entered the house. "Just sit down and relax, Christine. I'll make you some breakfast. You'll see, the world will look much brighter on a full stomach!"

Mme. Giry quickly joined the two girls in the parlor. Christine looked drawn and haggard. Despite the long sleep, there were dark rings around her eyes and she nervously played with the sash of the robe she had borrowed from Meg. It broke Mme. Giry's heart to see her like that, but she forced herself to smile.

"Look who is awake!" she cheerfully greeted Christine. "I bet you will be hungry now, after having slept so long!"

Christine looked down. She did not feel hungry in the least. "It was horrible," she whispered, shuddering slightly.

Mme. Giry suppressed a sigh. Whatever had happened the previous night must truly have been traumatic for having affected both her protégés so badly. While Christine did not seem physically harmed like Erik, it was obvious, that she, too, had come away with emotional scars.

"You should not let this bother you so much," she tried to comfort Christine. "It is over. You are safe now and all will be fine eventually. Don't dwell on these unpleasant memories. Think about the future! Your fiancé, the Vicomte, will stop by this afternoon, to check on you, and he hopes to set a date for your wedding..."

Christine nodded absentmindedly. "Raoul,..." she whispered. She knew she should be grateful to have such a loving, caring fiancé, who despite great personal risk had not shied away from going after her, from facing the dangerous, deranged man that had abducted her. And yet...

Her emotions were in turmoil. Her Angel. She did not know anymore, what to think of him. She had feared him, yes, after he had killed Buquet, and once she knew what he looked like, but... She also had not wanted him dead. She had felt so bad about acting as bait to capture him. Despite everything Raoul had said to her in order to convince her to go along with his plan, she had had her misgivings. It did not feel right. No matter how badly this man had betrayed and deceived her, paying him back the same way, by betraying and deceiving him, had somehow felt wrong.

And then... when he had joined her on stage and they had sung together... Christine almost smiled at that memory. There was nobody else in the entire world who could sing like him, who could convey so many emotions through song – and nobody else, whose voice blended so perfectly with hers, who inspired her to such all-time high artistic achievements. She had not thought about his crimes at that moment, had just relished this feeling of utter bliss, the ultimate triumph of music, when their voices had joined together at the climax of their duet.

She had still been absorbed in her music, when he had begun to beg for her love once more. She had been confused, she had at first not understood what was happening, then she had remembered where they were, Raoul's plan, the fact that it was a criminal holding her in his arms, and she had panicked. She had no idea why she had ripped off his mask, it must have been one of these instinctive, impulsive actions, but the next thing she remembered were screams. A savage roar from the man, whose face she had exposed to the audience and gasps of horror from all of them, once they realized the extent of his deformity.

"It was my fault," Christine wailed at the memory of how hurt his expressive eyes had looked at her, before he grabbed her and jumped with her through a trapdoor. Oh, he had raged at her like a madman and savagely pulled her along, but was his reaction really so surprising? Christine could understand only too well, how he must have felt. He had offered her his heart on a silver platter, and instead of just kindly letting him down, she had humiliated him in front of the entire audience – and in doing so, endangered his life as well, by making sure every last one of the gendarmes present understood he was the one they were trying to capture.

"Don't for a moment think that anything that happened yesterday was even remotely your fault," Mme. Giry's voice interrupted Christine's thinking. "Everybody is responsible for their own actions, and it was his decision, and his alone, to perform with you, to abduct you, to set the house on fire."

"But it was my fault!" Christine exclaimed. "I should never have agreed to play Aminta, to act as bait in order to lure him out of hiding."

Mme. Giry grasped Christine's hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "I did not particularly like this plan either," she confessed. "But something needed to be done to stop him. He had become dangerous. Think of Buquet. To capture him and bring him to justice was the right decision."

Christine shook her head. "No, no!" she cried. "That was so awfully wrong! He needed something different. He needed help. People that would be there for him." She stared at Mme. Giry, her eyes wide open with utter horror. "Do you know that not even his own mother loved him?" she shrieked. "I never knew. He told me last night. She covered his face with a mask before she even dressed her newborn son! Imagine that! A tiny little baby, and instead of taking proper care of him and wrapping him in protective clothes, she put some covering on his face! He could have suffocated! He never knew anything but rejection! Can you imagine what kind of life he must have lived, never being shown acceptance, never being shown kindness?"

Mme. Giry patted Christine's back. "Now, now, calm down, my dear," she tried to sooth the young woman. "That was not your fault. And we cannot change it anyway. This also happened long ago..."

"But don't you see?" Christine wailed. "I am in no way better than her! He had been nothing but kind to me, had taught me to sing – for free – had been my friend and confidant for years, ever since my dear papa died, and I... I chose to betray him, to act as bait!"

"Shh..." Mme. Giry once again tried to calm her. "That is completely different. While he was an innocent little baby when his mother treated him so poorly, he is an adult, fully responsible for his actions, now, and I am sure he knew what he did when he killed Buquet, in order to create the disaster beyond our imagination that he had promised the managers should his orders not be obeyed. He is dangerous now, Christine. You... We... could not let him stalk the Opéra Populaire and let him continue to kill people any longer. You did nothing wrong, when you helped the authorities. Don't blame yourself like that!"

"All he wanted was my love!" Christine continued. "Is it so much to ask to be loved? Doesn't everybody want that? And I denied him that... "

"That is not your fault either," Mme. Giry continued. "You cannot force your heart one way or the other. We cannot choose who we fall in love with. It is tragic, that his heart decided on you, while you fell in love with the Vicomte, your childhood friend, but once again, there is nothing you could have done to change things."

"I was so cruel to him!" Christine sobbed. "At first I was so furious about everything, I told him things that I probably do not even mean, and when Raoul came... it was so terrible! My nerves were on edge... I... I could not think clearly... I... " She could not continue, as heavy sobs were shaking her body.

"Don't think about it anymore," Mme. Giry made yet another effort to calm down the hysterically crying girl. "It is over now. You are save, and I am sure he will not bother you anymore." She suppressed a sigh at the thought that at this very moment Erik might already be dead. No, if she had understood that Persian gentleman correctly, there was no danger of Erik ever interfering with Christine's life again. The man was in no condition of doing so, and even if he survived, his depression would keep him from making another attempt at winning Christine.

"He is so lonely," Christine continued. "All he wanted was love, and I... and I..." Oh, how brokenhearted he had been when she had gone back to give him the ring! She had almost wanted to hug him and kiss him and tell him that she would never leave him again. "I broke him," she whispered. "Oh, Madame Giry, why could I not accept him right away, when he told me the truth about himself, when he showed me his home, when I saw his face for the first time? I had always wished so much that my Angel were real, that I could meet him and show him my love, and when he did... I... I simply couldn't! None of those things might have happened, if I had given him what he wanted, my love! Buquet, the masquerade, last night... it would never have happened if I..."

Mme. Giry sighed. "Stop thinking that way, Christine!" she admonished her foster daughter. "I just told you that it is not your fault that you do not love him. Also, keep in mind, that he is not the first man ever to be rejected by the woman of his dreams. There have been thousands of others before and there will be thousands of others after him that go through that very same experience. If others can deal with it, so should he. And if he cannot, that, once again, is not your fault!"

Christine nodded. "I know," she whispered. "But still..." She once again remembered his sad, sad eyes, when she had put the ring into his hand, closing his fingers around the piece of jewelry. And she remembered touching her lips to his earlier, in an attempt to free Raoul, her fiancé, her future husband, the man that she... She paused for a moment. Why had she kissed her Angel? She could not really say so herself. He certainly had not asked any signs of affection from her, just her promise to stay with him. But she had gone one step further, had actually kissed him, even twice. Why had she done that?

"Maybe if I had given him a chance,..." Christine mumbled, remembering how it had felt to kiss him. It had been so very different from the kisses she had shared with Raoul. She might even have gotten used to kissing her Angel. It definitely had not been unpleasant, not at all disgusting, as one might think considering his deformed face and malformed lips. No, it had been... almost exhilarating, and she had felt a strange warmth spread inside her. If he had asked her to go through with her promise, she probably would not have minded too much.

"That's utter nonsense," Mme. Giry interrupted Christine's thoughts. "You would have made both of you unhappy with such an attempt, for you could not have forced your heart. You would always have been pining for what you have given up, the Vicomte's love, and he would have known that you were secretly thinking of another man. It would not have worked that way. And the Vicomte would have been just as miserable as the two of you. So, maybe, now your so-called Angel has to suffer, but if you had lied to him, pretended to love him, all three of you would have been unhappy. Wouldn't you agree that it is better that just one person suffers instead of three?"

"Maybe." Christine did not sound convinced at all. Would it have been so hard to love that lonely man, who worshipped the ground she walked on? Would it really have been so impossible to get used to such wonderful kisses as the two she had shared with him?

Her eyes suddenly widened. She just remembered the loud voices she and Raoul had heard on their way out of the cellars. An angry mob had been searching for the Phantom, her Angel, ready to kill him. And the building had been on fire, about to collapse. True, that might not have been too much of a problem for the cellars, but still... what if the house collapsed on top of her Angel and blocked all his exit ways? What if something had happened to him last night? What if he was dead now, and she would never get a chance to see him again, to ask his forgiveness?

"Is he...?" she hesitantly began to ask. "I mean... do you know...?" She could not finish the question, for fear of what the answer might be.

Mme. Giry bit her lips. She was most definitely not going to tell Christine that Erik was at death's door. The girl was obviously disturbed enough by everything she had gone through. She seemed to blame herself for each and everything that had happened recently and if she learned about her Angel's current condition, there was no way of telling, how this would affect her emotionally. There was therefore only one answer she could give.

"I do not know," she lied, then added, "according to the morning papers, there is no trace of him."

"So he is safe?" Christine asked, her voice full of hope.

Mme. Giry shrugged. "I honestly don't know," she said, somewhat ambiguously, praying that Erik would indeed be safe. Safe and well, at least with time.

"Could... could it mean that he perished in the fire?" Christine asked nervously. "That he was not found, because he died in the flames?"

Mme. Giry smiled. "I don't think so, Christine," she said. "He knew that house well enough, I don't think he would have somehow gotten surrounded by flames with no way out..."

Christine eyed her suspiciously. Something in the way Mme. Giry had spoken, the inflection of her voice or some other detail, had given her the impression that the older woman knew more than she let on.

"You know that he did get out," Christine said, and the way Mme. Giry squirmed almost imperceptibly, confirmed her suspicion. "There is something you know about my Angel, that you do not tell me!" she accused her foster mother.

"He is not going to bother you ever again," Mme. Giry once again tried to reassure Christine. "That much I know for sure. Other than that, I really cannot tell you anything. That's all I know."

Christine nodded. That was not what she had wanted to hear. Needed to hear. She needed to hear that he was fine, unharmed. That he might forgive her one day, that she might even be able to meet him again and tell him herself, how sorry she was for everything that had gone wrong between them. How much she truly appreciated their time together, even though he had been nothing but a disembodied voice to her for many years, how much she loved his music, that she did not mind his face anymore and that she could even get used to his temper, now that she knew how devoid of love his whole life must have been and understood better, why he could get so angry so easily. And maybe, just maybe, if she could win his forgiveness that way, he would kiss her once again...


	4. Walls

Hi everybody,

here is the next chapter of this story. It will give you an idea about what is going on with our boy (and maybe give you a hint why I chose that title), while it also features the return of Christine's other suitor. Well... yeah, I think that man will be rather shocked when he finds out Christine really wants Erik, and yes, I do think that that was some amazing kissing. After all, why else would the orchestra jubilantly play the "Angel of Music"-theme when they kiss? That surely should tell us something, don't you agree?

Anyway, thank you all for reading, for putting on alert, for adding to favorites, and most of all, thank you to my dear reviewers, which for the previous chapter were: You Are Love, theviolinxx (Guest), Filhound, icanhearthedrums, MarilynKC and Ammaviel. I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

And I still don't own anything or anybody, and I have a feeling that won't change anytime soon, drat!

Chapter 4 – Walls

After his meeting with Mme. Giry, Nadir hurried home. He was anxious to see if the medicine he had administered to Erik had the desired effect, or not. If not, then he really did not know what else to try in order to save his younger friend's life. He suspected that Erik did not want to live, that he was not fighting the illness. The few words that he had understood from the mostly unintelligible delirious rumbling his patient had uttered the past night had been "over" and "hate". And he thought it was quite obvious what they meant, namely that Mademoiselle Daaé now hated Erik, and that therefore his hopes of ever winning her love were over.

Nadir sighed. Hate – what a strong word. And yet... was it truly so inconceivable to think that the young girl would have started to fear and hate her former teacher after all he had put her through? After all, Erik had lied to her for years, deceived her by making her believe he was an angel sent by her dead father, he had interrupted a performance, was suspected of having had his hands in making the prima donna croak like a toad and shad ubsequently killed a man and dropped the body from the rafters onto the stage. He had once again interrupted the Masked Ball on New Year's Eve, where he practically forced the managers to stage his own opera and give the female lead role to his protégée. Now who would want that kind of patronage? The gossip, the rumors that such an act would create? In doing that, Erik had practically ruined Mademoiselle Daaé's reputation, for more than one person had begun to feel that it was strange that the feared Phantom would go to such lengths in order to promote the former chorus girl, and that the only way to explain his desire to help her career in that way must be that she was his whore. Nadir also knew that Erik had stalked the young woman on various occasions, following her to places, such as the cemetery, where her late father was buried, not to forget that, if Nadir were to believe the newspaper, Erik had practically abducted her the previous night. Yes, it was not hard to imagine that the girl might have felt scared, threatened by Erik, and that her previous feelings of friendship and devotion thus had turned into fear and hate.

Poor Erik! Nadir sighed. If only the boy had accepted the fact that it was too much to ask of the young soprano to love him in a romantic way, if only he had been content with her friendship, things might have turned out differently. And he once again wondered, what exactly had transpired between these two the previous night. The paper had only mentioned the performance, the fact that she had unmasked Erik at some point, and that he had then somehow made the chandelier come down, while he had disappeared with the girl.

Erik had abducted her. Nadir swallowed hard. What did that mean? How desperate for her love had Erik been? What else had he done? Had he …. Nadir prayed to Allah that Erik had not actually gone as far as raping the girl. Though, even if he had tried and had been stopped in time, it was clear that she would hate her former teacher in all eternity. Was that what had happened? Was that why Erik was so convinced of her hatred, why the girl was so deeply shaken as well, as Mme. Giry had told him?

Questions over questions, and Nadir saw no way of finding answers for them. But he could not shake the suspicion that the happenings of the previous night somehow held the key to the whole situation, that if he only knew what exactly had transpired between Erik and his beloved, he might be able to help his friend.

Suddenly worried, Nadir quickened his pace. The moment he arrived home, he stormed into the guest room, which was now occupied by Erik. He found Darius at the bedside, who gave him a small smile.

"I think the medicine is having an effect, master," Darius informed him. "The fever is still high, but not quite as bad as last night. I believe that master Erik is not in immediate danger anymore, though he has not regained consciousness yet."

Nadir breathed a sigh of relief and went to check on his patient for himself. Darius was right. Erik's forehead, while still hot to his touch, was not the blazing, flaming hot of last night anymore, a sure sign that their patient's temperature had gone down slightly.

"I will have to try and make him swallow another mouthful of that concoction in an hour or two," he decided. "I don't want to give him too much of it right away, since I am not sure if a higher dose may not cause side-effects. But if we manage to lower his temperature a bit more, I am confident that we can get him through this."

Darius nodded. "I sincerely hope so, master," he said. "Master Erik has so much going for him, it would be such a tragedy, if he let a woman destroy him like that." Then he remembered Nadir's errand and asked, "did you learn anything from meeting the ballet mistress? Did she know anything about what might have caused this... this severe illness?"

Nadir sadly shook his head. "No," he explained, "it seems that Mademoiselle Daaé is deeply shaken as well and Mme. Giry is reluctant to bother the poor girl with questions. She feels that the young lady has been somehow traumatized and needs time to come to terms with what has happened. Even though Mme. Giry does care for Erik in her own way, she has decided to put Mademoiselle Daaé first, and I really cannot blame her. The girl is a victim here. She did not ask for what happened to her."

"In that case we might never find out what occurred last night," Darius remarked. "And thus might never understand why master Erik got so ill."

"His illness is quite obviously caused by a severe depression," Nadir explained, "though I am not quite sure about the reason. True, the girl rejected him, but Erik has known that for quite some time. He knew about her secret engagement. So it is safe to assume that something that happened last night, caused his condition to get worse. But unless he wakes up and tells us, I fear we will never know what that was."

Resignedly, the two men once again sat down at their patient's bedside, watching over their ill friend, praying that his condition would soon improve, and that once his body had healed, they would be able to help his broken heart as well.

Xxxx

Mme. Giry was worried. Christine had barely eaten, she looked ashen and always close to tears. Nothing she could say or do would cheer the girl up. It was as if something inside her had broken, as if some part of her soul had gone missing. Mme. Giry was therefore counting the minutes till the Vicomte would come and pay them a visit. She hoped that her fiancé, the man that had come to her rescue, would finally be able to draw Christine out of her lethargy and make her smile again.

When the doorbell finally rang, announcing the arrival of Raoul de Chagny, she therefore quickly went to let their guest in. Before she led Raoul to the parlor, where Christine was waiting, she took him aside and told him, "Christine is still shaken because of what happened last night. Please try as much as possible to not bring up bad memories and to cheer her up a bit. She needs to forget those traumatizing events as quickly as possible and get on with her life."

Raoul nodded. "Of course, of course, Mme. Giry," he reassured the older woman. "I understand that she is still scared to death, scared and disgusted, after last night, and I will try my best to make her understand that the monster will not be able to hurt her anymore."

He felt all warm and fuzzy inside. How touching of Christine that she still was troubled over having seen himself threatened by that fiend, of having feared for his own life! And of course it must have been truly traumatizing for her to approach that creature and actually … Raoul felt like throwing up. He could not even begin to imagine, how utterly revolting it must have been for Christine to touch her lips to those of that freak, to... He sincerely hoped she had washed her mouth out with a strong soap or detergent, for the thought of any trace of that monster's kiss still lingering on her lips disgusted him.

Raoul quickly followed Mme. Giry into the parlor. He hurried to Christine's side, fell to his knees next to her, and embracing her with both arms, whispered, "my dear, dear Christine, I so hope you are feeling better today. Rest assured that I will always, always protect you. I will make sure that from now on your life will be full of joy and happy feelings. We will soon get married, and maybe leave Paris. We could go back to Perros-Guirec, to the beach where we first met,... wouldn't you like that?"

Christine looked at Raoul as if she saw him for the first time. Yes, in a way it was touching that he held her, that he assured her he would protect her, but …. Somehow she had a feeling as if she did not need to be protected, as if he did not understand her, or her Angel at all, or anything of what had happened the previous night, for that matter. And unbidden the sad, sad eyes of a broken man appeared again in front of her mind's eyes.

"Thank you Raoul," she mumbled weakly. "That is so kind of you."

Raoul felt himself swell with pride. It was obvious that his show of affection had impressed her. Of course it was something different to be held and cherished by a Vicomte than to be forced to submit to the advances of a monster. He once again thought of the kiss she had shared with the criminal and had to suppress a shudder.

Raoul smiled at her. "I hope you will soon be able to forget the horrors this... freak has put you through," he cooed. "You poor thing! It must have been so terrible for you to be threatened and blackmailed by him and then to ..." He winced. "I cannot even begin to imagine, how utterly revolting it must have been to... well, you know,... and I can never thank you enough for having gone to such lengths to save me..."

Mme. Giry raised an eyebrow. She had no idea what the Vicomte was talking about. Erik had obviously made Christine do something, most likely in order to keep the Vicomte safe, something that the latter found revolting... She was worried. What exactly had Erik done to Christine, or better, made her do... with him, to him?

Christine also shuddered. She understood only too well that Raoul was talking about the kisses she had shared with her Angel. But where did he get the idea that that experience might have been revolting? She closed her eyes and tried to remember those brief moments of intimacy with the man she had once called her Angel. No, those kisses had not been disgusting at all, on the contrary, they had shared something deep and meaningful with each other, and once again, she prayed that her Angel was safe, and that one day she could see him again – and kiss him again.

Raoul noticed her blank stare. "Oh, my darling," he exclaimed. "How stupid of me, Little Lotte, to remind you of that traumatizing moment! Please, please, keep in mind that something like that will never happen again! I will make sure that he can never harm you again, I will not allow that... that THING to ever get anywhere near us again!"

"He is not a thing," Christine whispered, utterly shocked at Raoul's choice of words. Had he always talked like that about her Angel? She vaguely remembered having heard him use the word "thing" before when referring to him. How come she had never noticed? Or had she maybe not cared before? Why was she suddenly so sensitive where her broken Angel was concerned? Was it because after last night and what he had told her about his mother, she understood him a bit better? "He is a man."

Raoul huffed. He was annoyed that after all that monster had done, Christine was still defending him. "You call that thing human?" he spat at her. "I doubt he qualifies."

Christine looked at Raoul. "He is no monster," she stood her ground. "He let us go..."

"He should not have abducted you in the first place," Raoul reminded her. "If he had left you alone, there would have been no need for him to let us go."

Christine sensed that she had annoyed Raoul. That had not been her intention. She suddenly remembered that Raoul had not been there yet, when her Angel had told her about his mother forcing the mask on him as his first piece of clothing ever, obviously right after he had been born. She also understood that Raoul must have been scared out of his wits when he found himself at the Phantom's mercy, with the noose around his neck, and she also realized that those memories were still fresh and that now was probably not the best moment to defend her Angel. She therefore relented.

"I am sorry," she told Raoul. "I know that last night was hard on you as well. I did not mean to remind you of all the horrors _you_ have gone through for my sake. Maybe you need to put those memories to rest just as much as I do, or even more so." And for a brief moment she wondered if she even wanted to put all those memories behind her. She certainly did not want to forget those kisses... ever.

Raoul beamed. It felt good to be pitied by her. "I will eventually be able to forget," he assured Christine, "as I hope will you. In my opinion, the best way to get over that terrible experience, would be to get away as fast as possible. With a special license, we could get married as soon as next week, and then we could move elsewhere, leave Paris and all those memories behind. What do you think, Little Lotte? Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

Christine hesitated. Did she want that? Marry Raoul so soon? And did she want to leave Paris at all? Leave the Opéra? True, it had burned down and it would take a while till it could be reopened, but there was no Opéra at all in Perros. Did she want such a life?

"We could go away for a while," she hesitated. "I think I might like that. As long as we come back in time that I can participate in the reopening of the Opéra!"

Raoul grinned. "We do not have to do that," he informed her. "You won't have to work again. As my wife, you will be above such needs. In fact, even if the monster had not burned down the Opéra, you would not have been able to continue performing there after we'll be married. A Vicomtesse does not perform on stage."

Christine shuddered. "I will have to give up music?" she asked in shock. "Surely you can't mean that?"

"Well, I won't have any problems with you singing at home, for me, or later, for our children, lullabies and such," Raoul explained. "But in public, no."

Christine sighed. "I see," she whispered, brokenly. Why did her life suddenly seem so dull? No music, her Angel gone, having to leave Paris, which also meant her friends and colleagues from the Opéra, nothing to do, nobody she knew around her but Raoul? Why did such a life suddenly not appeal to her anymore?

"Maybe we should wait a little bit," she finally managed to say. "I need to get used to that idea. Never to perform again, that is," she explained.

Raoul could not believe what he heard. After last night, after that monster had practically cornered her on stage, how could she not be delighted at the prospect of never having to go anywhere near that building again? "I thought you might be happy to escape that horror-filled environment," he said sharply.

Christine grabbed his hand. "Don't be angry, Raoul. I understand why you would feel that way, but music is my life. It has been with me for as long as I can think. My dear papa..."

Of course! Raoul remembered how close she had been to her father. And that man had been a musician. Somehow music was her connection to her long-dead father.

"I know how much you miss your father," he said, forcing a smile on his lips. "And I do not ask you to give up music completely, just performing."

Christine nodded. "I know. But please, can you still give me a bit more time to get used to that idea? I... it never occurred to me that as your wife I would not be able to continue with my career anymore."

Raoul sighed. He would have preferred to marry her as quickly as possible and then to whisk her away from Paris, as far away from the grips of that freak as possible. For he had read the papers, too. He knew that the Phantom had not been caught. And as long as that man was alive, Raoul would not feel safe. But Christine truly was shaken, and to be honest, he could not quite get himself to kiss her right now, not so soon after... He shuddered again. The longer they waited, the better chances would be that any lingering traces of the contamination that THING had left on her lips were gone.

"If you insist," he therefore told Christine, "we can wait a bit longer. But keep in mind, that the sooner we can leave Paris together and start our new life together, the sooner we will be able to put those terrifying memories at rest."

Christine thanked him for his understanding. Once again she was glad to have such a caring fiancé.

Xxxxx

Erik was annoyed. He had been so comfortable in the dark void of unconsciousness. It had been such a relief to leave the outside world with all its pain and rejection behind. Now something, somebody was trying to lure him back into consciousness, to make him face that cruel world again. He did not want to do that. He did not want to wake up, to go back to the living hell of rejection. He did not want to and therefore he would not do it. He would not allow the outside world to hurt him ever again. He would not go back there. He began building walls around his soul, his mind, walls that would keep the world and all its horrors and cruelty outside. Walls, that would protect him. He retreated deeper and deeper into his subconscious, into the darkest recesses of his own self, hiding behind ever growing walls, unable and unwilling to ever again face reality and the pain it had caused him. He shut off every sensation, cut off any connection with the world, locked the hurt and the pain out, feeling safe in the dark cocoon of his subconscious.


	5. Visit

Hi everybody,

thank you all so much for reading, for putting on alert, adding to favorites, and most of all for reviewing! Yes, I know, some of you are concerned about Erik and how Christine will be able to reach him, once she sees him again, but worry not, dear readers, I have figured it all out. Just stay with me for the ride. Remember, I have never given you a tragic ending and I am not about to change that. There will eventually be a wedding, I promise!;-)

As to your other concern, that everybody will think the worst of our boy, well, this is addressed in this chapter, as we follow Christine in her struggle to realize what she really wants.

Now, without further ado, here is the chapter, and please keep in mind that I don't own these characters or certain situations described...

Chapter 5 – Visit

The moment Raoul had left, Mme. Giry sent Meg to the kitchen under a pretext. She then faced Christine.

"Christine, I know how traumatic last night must have been for you," she began. "And how utterly horrible it is for you to speak about those occurrences. Believe me, I would not bother you with questions, if it were not absolutely necessary. But something the Vicomte just said, worried me. He mentioned something you did, obviously with …. your abductor, something that he thought was disgusting. I need to know, Christine, and you don't need to be ashamed, for whatever happened, was not your fault, but please tell me the truth, did he... I mean... the Phantom... touch you in an inappropriate way or force himself on you?"

"No!" Christine was adamant, and shocked at what Mme. Giry thought her Angel capable of. "Of course not! My Angel would never do such a thing. He would never hurt me!" And she blushed with embarrassment as she remembered that she had suspected him of planning the exact same thing, namely raping her. How could she ever have thought that of him? True, he had tried to force her to stay with him, but …. he had not asked for any signs of affection. It had been her who had initiated those kisses, not him. And somehow she had a feeling as if he would never have dared anything like that on his own.

Mme. Giry eyed her suspiciously. While she thought that Christine was telling the truth, that Erik had not laid hand on her, the girl was flustered and blushing, thus _something_ must have happened, something that the Vicomte thought was disgusting. What could that be?

"I believe you," she told Christine, "but the Vicomte mentioned something you did for his sake, that must have been revolting. And I have a feeling it involves the man that you call your Angel. I need to see clear here. Christine, please!"

She took Christine's hands in hers and caressed them soothingly. "I do not want to pry," she assured the young woman. "But I am worried about you. Please, tell me what happened between you and Erik!"

"Erik?" Christine's eyes widened. "Who is Erik?"

Mme. Giry bit her lip. How could she have been so careless and let that name slip? She had not planned on revealing to Christine that she knew more about him than most people suspected. But there was no way of taking her words back now. "That's his name," she therefore grumbled, "the Phantom's."

Christine smiled. She had just learned something new about her Angel! "Erik," she whispered. "What a strong, beautiful name!" Then she turned to Mme. Giry, as realization hit her. "You know him!" she accused the older woman. "You always knew him!"

Mme. Giry looked away. "Yes," she admitted, embarrassed. "I knew him... once. But, Christine, you have not answered my question. What happened between the two of you, that the Vicomte found so disgusting? What did Erik do to you?"

Christine turned the deepest shade of purple. She did not want to talk about those kisses, at all. That was her secret. Hers and her An... Erik's. "I promised to stay with him," she finally admitted. "To save Raoul. My Angel... I mean, Erik, promised he would let Raoul go, if I stayed with him."

Mme. Giry paled. "He blackmailed you?" she asked, scandalized. "Oh my poor, poor girl! That must have been terrible!"

Christine thought back to the previous night. Yes, that part of it had been terrible. She had been so scared and confused, both men talking to her, trying to influence her choice, Erik threatening to kill Raoul, if she did not stay and Raoul telling her that he would die anyway, if she chose Erik. _That_ had been the truly scary part, them both trying to sway her one way or another, them both screaming at her, and her standing there, between them, frightened out of her wits, fearing that things might escalate even further.

But then, once she had reached her decision... No, Christine shook her head. Nothing had been scary, terrifying or confusing anymore then. Once she had decided to stay with her Angel, it all had been so clear. It had been such a relief, for she had suddenly known what she had to do, not just for his sake, but for hers as well. The thought of staying with him had not been frightening any more, she only knew that she had to convince him that she really, truly meant it, and it had seemed so natural, to slip the ring on her finger, walk up to him and kiss him.

Christine smiled again at the memory of those kisses she had shared with him. It had felt so right to kiss Erik, those kisses had been so very, very special.

As Christine realized that Mme. Giry was still staring at her in shock, she quickly explained. "He did not really mean it, you know, he did let us go in the end. I think, he was confused and unsure how to handle the situation. It must have been difficult for him as well." She shuddered. "He had just escaped death. He must have noticed all those gendarmes in the building, he must have known he had been in great danger. Is it such a surprise that he felt threatened by Raoul, who had planned that ambush, and that he tried his best to subdue the enemy?"

Mme. Giry gave Christine a surprised look. That was not quite the reaction she had expected, and she was not sure how to respond.

Christine suddenly remembered something else. "You do know him," she reminded Mme. Giry. "Have you heard... I mean, would he let you know, if... ? Is he all right?"

Mme. Giry gasped. Would this girl ever cease to surprise her? "You are worried about him?" she asked softly. "After all he has done?"

Christine nodded, looking down to hide her embarrassment. "I realize only now that he is only partially to blame for all that has happened," she explained. "He must have had a terrible life, right from the start. I mean, every child needs love and attention, something his mother obviously was not willing to give him, and because of that, somehow along the way he must have developed that idea that because of his face nobody will ever be able to love him. Which is so sad! It is not his fault that his face looks that way. There is nothing he can do about it. He is such an intelligent, brilliant, gifted person. Think of the beautiful music he wrote, those haunting melodies expressing the love and longing between Don Juan and Aminta!"

And once again, Christine wondered, if it would have been so difficult to love her Angel, if she had known all that she knew about him now, in the first place.

Christine once again faced Mme. Giry. "Please, Madame," she begged. "If you know anything about him, if he has escaped the fire, please tell me! I swear I won't tell anyone else, not even Raoul. I won't betray my Angel again."

Mme. Giry shook her head. It certainly would not help make Christine relax to tell her that Erik was at death's door. The way the girl acted right now, she would probably think it was all her fault. She could not burden Christine with that thought. "I honestly don't know," she therefore lied, and adding a half-truth, she continued, "he has not contacted me since …. the fire."

Christine's face fell. "But if," she whispered. "If you hear from him, will you... will you tell him that I am sorry and don't blame him for anything? That I now understand?"

Mme. Giry pulled Christine into her arms. What a mess the whole situation was! Christine obviously still held some feelings of friendship for Erik, even though he had tried to force her to stay with him, while the thought of her rejection was obviously about to kill Erik. How she wished she could have prevented such a situation and spared them both the hurt and pain!

Xxxx

A few days passed, and thanks to Nadir's concoction, Erik's body temperature slowly approached normal again. But Nadir and Darius were worried, for their friend had not regained consciousness yet. Erik was breathing normally, his heart was beating fairly regularly, at one point he even opened his eyes, but he did not seem to look at them, to focus, the two men were met with a blank stare, and no matter what they tried, Erik did not react to them in any way.

Nadir frowned. He had a bad feeling about this development. He vaguely remembered having read something about a similar case somewhere, and he knew that such a condition was highly dangerous. Erik had not really eaten in days. They had managed to make him swallow some medicine and water, but it was of course too risky to try and feed him solid food. The chance of Erik choking on it was just too great. But if his condition did not improve, how much longer could he go on without eating anything of substance?

Nadir knew that his limited medical knowledge was not enough to treat Erik's condition. He therefore went to the National Library and read up on the case. The illness in question was apparently called catatonia, he learned, and it was caused by deep depression or traumatic experiences. It meant that the patient was retreating into his own subconscious, shutting off a hurtful world. To Nadir's utter horror, there was not much that could be done about such a condition, other than try to stimulate the patient and make him want to return to the world.

He sighed. What could he do, in order to make Erik want to rejoin the world of the living? Maybe if Mademoiselle Daaé were able to come and help him care for Erik, her presence would help, but Nadir knew that he could never ask that of her. What else might wake Erik up from his stupor? Music? Nadir had not the slightest talent for music, despite his great appreciation for this art form. He would therefore not be able to sing to Erik or play an instrument to him.

When he discussed the situation with Darius, his manservant was at a loss as well. They both also realized that whatever they would try to stimulate Erik, might end up being noticed by neighbors. They could not very well start bringing in armfuls of flowers in order to try and reach Erik through smell, for instance, without causing suspicion. If they tried with sound, things would be even worse.

"That house of his," Nadir suddenly remembered. "We have to try and bring Erik there. That house in the countryside, which he inherited from his mother. It is secluded enough, that we would not have to fear that he would be found by the authorities. It's a good five minutes' walk form the center of the village, and the only house nearby, only separated by a hedge, is his godmother's. That's the ideal place. The garden is fenced in, nobody would spot Erik, if we brought him out into the green, to make him listen to the birds and insects, smell the flowers, feel the wind and the sunshine, see the glory of nature. That's our best choice!"

Darius hesitated. "But that woman next door – will she not realize we are there?" he pondered. "She may be master Erik's godmother, but does that mean, she will not want to hand him in to authorities?"

Nadir shook his head. "I doubt it," he informed his servant. "That woman is very devoted to Erik. Remember that I went to see her a couple years ago, when Erik had read in the papers that his mother had died and that they were looking for an heir? That's when he asked me to go to his hometown of Boscherville and settle things for him. His mother's will read that since she had no other relatives, all her belongings should go to her son, who had been missing for several years by then already. In case there was proof that he was dead as well, everything should go to her dear friend Marie. Well, I talked to this Marie, and once I realized how devoted to Erik she always had been, still was, I told her everything I knew about him. She then told the authorities, that she had heard from Erik, that he would always be the owner of his parents' estate, but that he had asked her to manage his affairs in his absence. I am sure we can convince her to help us, for instance by pretending that she has rented the house out to me for a few months, since my sick relative needs fresh air to recover or something."

Darius nodded. "We certainly could try that," he admitted.

Nadir immediately sat down and wrote two letters, one to Mademoiselle Marie Perrault, announcing his imminent arrival, and one to Mme. Giry, asking her to meet him again, since he had something new to tell her.

Xxxx

The next day, Mme. Giry and Nadir once again met at the Jardin de Luxembourg. Mme. Giry was nervous. She had anxiously been waiting for news on Erik's condition and when she spotted Nadir and saw the latter's grim expression, her heart almost stopped.

"Is he...?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Nadir sighed and lead her once again to a quiet corner of the park. "No," he told her then. "But it's almost worse than death." And he began to describe Erik's condition and the decision to take him to his native village of Boscherville in a desperate attempt to bring him back to the world of the living.

Mme. Giry had tears in her eyes. "The poor man," she sighed. "And all because he loved Christine so much!"

Nadir turned to her. "Speaking of Mademoiselle Daaé," he began, "have you been able to learn anything from her? Is it..." He hesitated. "When Erik was still delirious," he then tried to explain, "he mumbled a few words. Most of them were too slurred, I could not understand it all, but I did hear him pronounce the words "hate" and "over". I am wondering therefore, could anything have happened between the two that made Mademoiselle Daaé hate him? Has he done anything... inexcusable... to her?"

Mme. Giry shook her head. "I feared that as well," she confessed, "but Christine is adamant that he did not hurt her. Though I learned that he tried to force her to stay with him by somehow threatening her fiancé, the Vicomte. She did end up promising to stay with him, but then Erik released them both." After a short pause, she added, "I don't have the feeling she hates him. On the contrary, she tried to defend his actions, and even seemed worried about him. No, I have of course not told her about his condition," she quickly assured Nadir. "In her current emotional state, she would most likely have felt that it was her fault. I said I hadn't heard from him at all. It's probably better that way."

Nadir nodded. Mme. Giry was of course right. Even if Christine, now that she was safe, could somehow forgive Erik and even hope for him to be fine as well, he could not imagine putting her in contact with Erik again. Even though she did not seem to harbor any ill feelings towards him anymore, having to face him again might bring back terrifying memories. Mme. Giry was probably right. She knew the girl best. If she thought, the young woman might feel responsible for Erik's condition – which in a way she was – then it was definitely the best they could do for her to keep her in the dark, even though it might mean condemning Erik to certain death.

Mme. Giry hesitated for a moment. "May I...?" she then asked, "see him?"

Nadir thought about it for a moment. Maybe the visit of his old friend might have a beneficial effect on Erik. He therefore nodded. "Please come with me," he offered. "most of my neighbors should be at work at this time of the day, and the children at school. It should therefore not be too hard for you to come and go unnoticed. If anybody saw you, it might lead to Erik being discovered, not to mention the fact that your reputation might suffer..."

Mme. Giry could not help feeling that Erik could not be in better hands. That man really thought of everything!

Xxxx

After a short walk, they arrived at Nadir's home. He cautiously made sure Mme. Giry was not seen entering the house with him and quickly led her up to his apartment. He showed Mme. Giry to the guest room. In their attempt to stimulate Erik, he and Darius had dressed the man and comfortably settled him in an armchair.

Mme. Giry gasped, as she saw her old friend. She almost did not recognize him. Erik sat there, slightly hunched, staring blankly ahead. Gone were his always erect, straight posture, his slightly arrogant attitude, his intelligent gaze and there was no sign of recognition at all, when she entered his field of vision. Even though Nadir had explained the condition to her and prepared her for what she would be seeing, she was shocked.

"Oh Erik," she whispered sadly to the apathetic man. "I am so sorry!" She turned away, trying in vain to hide her tears. She was more convinced than ever, that she could not tell Christine about her Angel's fate. It was hard enough for herself to see the once so energetic man reduced to such a pitiful state. How much worse would it be for Christine, to see him like that, her poor, compassionate Christine, who was plagued by feelings of guilt already, for not having understood her Angel better, for not having been able to help him.


	6. Realization

Hi everybody, thank you once again for reading, for putting this story on alert or adding it to favorites, but most of all, for reviewing it! You always make my day with your kind words of approval.

The following chapter is an important one. Somebody is coming to her senses...

Well... I think we are headed towards a reunion...

But, let's not get ahead of things. ;-) Anyway, here is the next chapter. Enjoy, and keep in mind that I don't own these characters and certain events mentioned in this chapter..

Chapter 6 – Realization

"Erik!" Christine smiled. Ever since Mme. Giry had let that name slip, she could not get it out of her mind. His name was Erik. Her Angel's name. Never would she have imagined that a name could make that much of a difference, but somehow everything had changed, now that she knew he was called Erik. It somehow made him more human, more like a person, not an entity.

Christine realized that she had not truly seen her Angel as a man before. For so many years she had believed him to be a celestial being, and then, when he had revealed himself as being a living, breathing entity, she had learned that he was the Opera Ghost, the Phantom, as people called him. Somehow he _still_ had seemed a somewhat supernatural force to her. He had appeared to be so much more powerful than normal men. How had he managed to make Carlotta croak, for instance? That surely must have been pure magic? And the way he had disappeared at the Masquerade – with hundreds of people around and watching? No, "man" had not been the way she had thought of him then, not really. She had seen him more like a force to be feared and it had been so easy for Raoul to lure her away from the dearest friend of her childhood and youth, the mentor, teacher, father figure that had been the main influence in her life after her father's death.

But a lot of things had happened recently, things that had made her think and that had changed her perspective on him. When he had told her about his mother forcing the mask on him as his very first piece of clothing, her heart had gone out to him, and she had for the first time seen him as an abused human being. True, she only had thought about the tiny, disfigured baby being fitted with a mask before even being properly dressed, and the thoughts of how such a mask might have interfered with an infant's breathing, had caused her almost physical pain. Yet her compassion had still only been for the baby he once had been, not the man he had become.

Then she had promised to stay with him and had kissed him, and those kisses... Christine shook her head. How could she not have realized then and there that it was a feeling, red-blooded man she had kissed? Of course at that point, she had been too shaken, too confused, to think much about anything, and in a way her worry for Raoul had been the driving force behind her actions. She had not stopped and analyzed her thoughts about the... man she was kissing.

But now... now she knew his name, and somehow that completely changed her perspective. Erik. A name. A man's name. Her Angel was a man. How often had she wished just that? How often had she dreamed that he could come to her as a man, who loved her and whom she could love? But when her wish had come true, somehow things had gone wrong. Why and how could this have happened? Did his hideous face really change things that much, and if so, was it more in her eyes or in his?

Christine shuddered as she remembered how she had taken off his mask the first time and how he had suddenly turned so angry. She was not sure anymore what had frightened her more, his face or his temper. The more she thought about it, the more she thought it might have been the latter. She now felt as if she could have accepted that horrible face, as if she could have learned to see it as part of him, her beloved Angel.

She closed her eyes in shock. Beloved. She had just thought of her Angel as her "beloved". Was that the way she felt about him? She knew that when she had been a child she had adored her Angel, worshiped him, seen him as her best friend in a way, but was that love? And later on, when she had hoped he could be real, so that she could love him and be loved by him, had that been her true feelings for him or had that just been girlish fantasies, the very normal dreams of a young girl of finding love one day?

Christine sighed. She was not quite sure, but she felt as if she had always wanted the man she would one day marry to be like her Angel. There had been so many things she had admired about him, cherished about him during those years he watched over her and taught her how to sing. His incredible love for music, for one, his deep understanding of it, his wonderful ways of teaching her, of guiding her, his interest in all her daily problems and worries... all of these were qualities she had wanted in the man she would one day marry.

Of course she had also expected that man to be handsome and close to her in age. But did those things really matter? True, her Ang... Erik was older than her, and though she did not really know his age, she estimated him to be around his mid-thirties. That was of course about twice her age, but it was not really old either, or was it? In a way it made him look more mature, more like a man as opposed to a _boy_. Christine smiled. She thought she now understood why Erik referred to Raoul that way.

And as to handsome... She sighed again. No, there was no way of calling Erik's face handsome, though his eyes, those expressive eyes, were stunning. One could so easily get lost in those eyes and their intense gaze. And even though his lips were bloated and malformed, it had not been unpleasant in the least to kiss him. On the contrary. In fact, kissing him had been such a wonderful experience, that she had had to repeat it immediately. It had felt so good, so right, a warmth had spread throughout her body, a feeling of anticipation, of... could she call it longing, what she had felt when she had kissed her Angel? Longing for... what?

Christine blushed as she remembered that the word "longing" was often used in the context of "wanting to do the things married couples do in their marriage bed". Was that what she had felt when she kissed Erik? A wish of submitting to him in that way, of becoming his in the most intimate way?

Christine's eyes widened. When she had gotten engaged to Raoul, Mme. Giry had explained to her in more detail, what happened between men and women that would lead to the woman becoming pregnant and having a baby. Christine had been shocked at that revelation and had somehow banned the thought of having to one day do such disgusting things with Raoul from her mind. She still could not imagine herself with Raoul in such a way. Not with anyone, to be precise, and yet...

If by kissing the man that was her Angel, she could feel so much anticipation, even longing, maybe, just maybe, it would not be _quite_ as embarrassing to do those things with _him_?

In her mind's eye, Christine pictured Erik, her Angel turned man, and for the first time she realized that despite his face there was a lot about him that made him... appealing. He was tall, and though he was rather slender, he was well-muscled, thanks to the exercise he got on a daily basis by running up and down all those hundreds of stairs several times a day, by poling that boat across the subterranean lake, by climbing around in the rafters. Christine remembered the wide open poet shirt he had been wearing that last night, which had revealed a lot of his masculine, muscular chest to her and she caught herself at the thought of what he might look like without a shirt.

Christine shook her head. What was wrong with her? She had never had such inappropriate thoughts before, and in truth, she had never wondered about Raoul without a shirt. If at all, shouldn't him, her fiancé, be the man she had shirtless fantasies about? But for some reasons it was Erik. Erik and the memory of those kisses she had shared with him. Could she have feelings for _Erik_?

"But he is a criminal", she tried to remind herself. "He has done terrible things, killed Buquet and Piangi, threatened to kill Raoul, set the Opéra Populaire on fire."

"Out of desperation", her mind excused him. With Buquet, she was not a hundred percent sure, but everything Erik did that last night, had most likely been out of desperation. He had felt threatened, ambushed, about to lose the woman he loved, …

"He loves me!" That thought warmed Christine's heart. He did love her. Her Angel loved her, as she had always dreamed he would. No, not an Angel, she reminded herself, he was a man. A human being, like herself, his name was Erik. And Erik loved her.

Suddenly the world seemed brighter, as if the sun had just come out from behind a dark cloud. Of course! How had she been so blind and not realized it sooner?

"Erik," she whispered again. "My Erik, my Angel. I _do_ love you!"

It all suddenly made sense. The way she had felt drawn to him at the Masquerade, why she had wanted to keep her engagement with Raoul a secret, why she had been so reluctant to go along with Raoul's plan, why she had stopped Raoul from killing Erik in the graveyard, why everything had suddenly been so clear once she had decided to stay with Erik, why she had kissed him, even though he had not asked that of her, and why she had enjoyed it, so much more than any of the kisses she had ever shared with Raoul, why she now was so worried sick about him, and why she had fantasies of what he might look like without his shirt on. There was only one explanation for all of that, and it was, that she loved him. Him, the man Erik.

And she sighed with relief. The Angel she had been in love with, fortunately was not really an angel. Erik was a man. A man she could and did love. And thank God, she had realized it in time. She was not married yet. Though it might be kind of embarrassing to break off her engagement with Raoul after all that had happened, and such a break-up would certainly cause yet another scandal and be the source of gossip for weeks, if not months, she now knew that she could never become Raoul's wife. Not when it was Erik she truly wanted.

It was not that she did not like Raoul, but her feelings for him were nothing compared to the strong bond she shared with Erik. A bond that had grown and deepened over the years.

A new fear suddenly took hold of her. She had treated Erik so badly, and she had hurt him. God, she had not gotten engaged with Raoul to annoy or hurt Erik, she had honestly believed to love her childhood friend, and since he had let her go with Raoul, Erik obviously thought so as well. So, even if she met Erik again one day, which, given the way they had parted, did not seem very likely, how could she convince him otherwise, namely that it was him she truly loved? And would he be able to forgive her? What if she had hurt him so badly that now he did not want anything to do with her anymore?

No, she resolutely shook her head. She had no reason to doubt his love. Even when she had returned the ring and left him, he had told her that he loved her. Her Erik loved her! And since he did love her, he would forgive her. She had to cling to that hope, that once she would find him again, once she had explained everything to him, he would forgive her. And then...

She beamed at the thought of being kissed by Erik. Not her kissing him, like the last time, but him actually initiating the kiss... Oh, how wonderful that would be!

Xxxx

"Madame, you must help me." Mme. Giry looked up from her sewing, when Christine addressed her. She had been deep in thought. It had been three days since she had learned the disturbing news about Erik from Monsieur Khan and gone to see her old friend, and she could not get the thought of Erik out of her mind, the way he had been when she had visited him, so utterly apathetic, not reacting to anything, slumped in that armchair, utterly unresponsive. No, she did not wish such misery on anybody, least of all on Erik, who had already been through so much. No matter what he had done, he did not deserve such a fate, and she prayed to God that Monsieur Khan would somehow be able to help Erik, that his idea of transferring the sick man to the countryside would do the trick and bring Erik back from wherever his mind was hiding right now.

She knew that the Persian had planned to move Erik to Boscherville the day after they had met, thus, by now, the men should have arrived there. It was end of February, and still cold, but the first rays of sunshine were already coming out and in a few weeks, spring would be there with all its beauty. If they could keep Erik alive that long – true, feeding him was a problem, but then, he had never eaten that much, his body was used to survive on little sustenance, and if they succeeded in making him swallow a few spoonfuls of broth, or milk, or vitamin-rich fruit-juice every now and then, he might last long enough to see spring in all its beauty. Surely that would motivate him to give life another try, to come out of his stupor and start anew?

Christine's words interrupted her thoughts and she sighed. Erik was not the only one she was worried about. Christine clearly needed her help, too. She therefore tried to compose herself, and turned to her surrogate daughter with a smile.

"What can I help you with, Christine?" she asked.

Christine hesitated. It was one thing to suddenly realize that she was engaged to the wrong man, but another thing entirely to freely talk about such an embarrassing situation.

"I,... that is...," Christine stammered, then blurted out. "Raoul. I cannot marry him!"

Mme. Giry looked at her in surprise. "Why ever not, my dear?" she asked. "Is it because you will not be able to perform any more? I know that this revelation shocked you deeply the other day," she added. "But a relationship always means that both sides have to compromise. I am sure the Vicomte will have to give up a few habits of his as well, that he is rather fond of, once the two of you will be married..."

Christine shook her head. "It's not that," she mumbled. "Well, yes, that is part of it," she admitted. "His lack of understanding for my music, for how important it is to me. But also... I... I do not... I mean, I cannot imagine doing those … what married people do... with him!"

Mme. Giry smiled. "I guess every woman is a bit worried about that, until it has actually happened to her," she told Christine. "That is not really a reason to break off an engagement."

"You do not understand," Christine tried again, now turning a deep shade of purple. "I like Raoul, I have known him for a long time, and he is fun to be around and charming, and I do not doubt his devotion, but... " She paused again, summoning all her courage, then she whispered, barely audible, "Erik..."

Mme. Giry sat bolt-upright. "Erik?" she asked. "What has he to do with this?"

"I love him." Christine's voice was barely above a whisper. "I need to find him," she continued, suddenly more confident, now that she had found the courage to put her feelings for Erik into words. "I know I have no idea, where he is now, and what he is doing, but I just have to try. I have to search for him, and if it takes the rest of my life, I need to tell him that it was him all along that I loved, I need him to know, that he is the only one I will ever want, and I need him to forgive me!"

Mme. Giry could not believe her ears. Was Christine speaking the truth? Did she really love Erik and not Raoul? If so, what had her made realize that? And, more importantly, if it _was_ true that Christine did love Erik, what should she, Antoinette Giry, do? Could she break Christine's heart by telling her about Erik's current condition and thus maybe taking away his only chance at recovery, or should she continue to lie to Christine, in order to protect her, to keep that painful truth from her, and thus maybe condemn Erik to certain death?

"What makes you think that you do love Erik?" she cautiously asked. "I thought it was the Vicomte you were in love with?"

Christine shook her head. "I thought so as well," she admitted, "but I was wrong. I... I never saw Erik as a man, you know, first he was my Angel, and even when I realized he was no celestial being, he still was the Opera Ghost and Phantom to me, never a person, a man." And she began to talk about how she had gradually come to see him as a fellow human being, as a man. The story about his mother and the mask, the kisses, and finally his name...

Christine sobbed. "That's what finally convinced me. He has a name. He is a human being. He is somehow more real to me now. And... " She blushed again. "When I kissed him, it was nothing like me and Raoul kissing. It was so much deeper, more meaningful."

She smiled. "I have finally made up my mind. It is Erik I want. If I cannot find him, or if, once I find him, he cannot forgive me, I will remain unmarried. He is the only one I want. The only one."


	7. Plans

So, there is the next chapter, and you will finally find out, what Mme. Giry decides to do in this unexpected new situation. Thank you all for reading, for adding to favorites or putting on alert, but most of all thank you to my precious, valued, loyal reviewers! (which does not mean that any new reviewers would not bbe just a valued and precious! Just saying...) I really could not do this without you!

Anyway, on to the story, and keep in mind that no copyright infrigement is intended by the use of these characters and certain situations.

Chapter 7 – Plans

Mme. Giry cautiously looked up from her sewing and faced Christine. "Christine, my darling," she said, "I do not doubt your feelings after all you have just told me, but..."

When she noticed that Christine was about to say something, she hushed her. "No, Christine, let me finish first," she begged, "you may tell me your point of view afterwards."

Then Mme. Giry took a deep breath and began. "You know that there was a time, when I just hoped for this to happen," she confessed. "For you to return Erik's feelings, that is. I know that he loves you dearly, and that he would treat you like a queen, and he, well, since he told you a bit about his mother's despicable attitude towards him you know that he hasn't exactly been shown much love in his life, and he deserves to be loved every bit as much as any other person. But,..." She sighed. "Things have gotten out of hand lately, and even though I kind of understand why Erik did what he did, and I also do believe that Piangi's death was an accident, it is also a fact that Erik is a wanted criminal here in France now. The Vicomte is not. With the Vicomte you would be safe, with Erik – assuming you even find him – you would have to leave France, might always be on the run. Have you thought about that, Christine?"

Christine looked down. She had to admit that Mme. Giry had a point. Raoul was the better, safer choice. But... she wanted Erik. It was his silken voice that she wanted to whisper words of love to her, his lips to kiss her and his arms to hold her. "I can't," she sobbed. "You are probably right and the more reasonable thing to do would be to marry Raoul, but I can't do that. Not, when I have finally figured out that my heart will always be with my Angel, with Erik."

Mme. Giry winced. She had no doubts anymore that Christine did, indeed, love Erik, and she was beginning to hope that this love might be Erik's salvation, both in terms of helping him recover and in terms of helping him start anew and redeem himself. But there were a few other things she had to point out to her surrogate daughter.

"You have also to think about how your sudden change of mind might look to the Vicomte," she reminded Christine. "Do you think he would just accept your request to break your engagement? He might not guess the truth, but in his mind Erik will most likely be the reason for your refusal to marry him. He might think that Erik is blackmailing you, threatening you again. You know that public opinion is that the Opera Ghost perished in the fire, but if the Vicomte has reason to suspect that Erik might still be alive and trying to influence you again..."

Christine closed her eyes in shock. "Are you telling me, I have to marry Raoul, in order to keep Erik safe?" she stammered.

Mme. Giry sighed. God, without a miracle, Erik would probably be dead in a few weeks anyway, and none of her concerns would matter one way or another. "I am not telling you anything," she therefore replied. "I am just making you see every side of your decision, all the possible consequences..."

Christine nodded. "We must make it clear to Raoul that my decision has nothing to do with Erik," she explained. "Maybe we could say that the information that as a Vicomtesse I cannot continue to perform has made me reconsider? Or maybe we tell him, I need some distance from all that has happened, some time to myself to deal with all the occurrences of the past couple of months?" She grinned. "That's probably the best idea," she realized. "For, if I want to look for Erik, I might have to leave Paris anyway, or do you think he is still here?"

Mme. Giry chose not to reply. Christine apparently had not expected an answer anyway, for she continued, "we can say then, that I need a break, some vacation away from Paris, and thus he won't be suspicious if I leave for a while... "

Mme. Giry sighed. Maybe that was the solution. Maybe she could send Christine away for a few weeks – to Boscherville. And if Christine's presence there did not have the desired effect on Erik and he passed away anyway, or if Christine then decided that she did not want to spend her life with the kind of mental vegetable Erik had become now, the Vicomte would still be here. But there was still the problem – how could she tell Christine about Erik's predicament? For it was obvious that she could not send her to Boscherville unprepared.

"That might be an option," she therefore cautiously began. "And sending you away from Paris for a while might not be such a bad idea after all, but..." She looked Christine in the eye, her expression serious and somber. "What if... I mean, assuming you do find Erik, and he is not... how shall I put it? Not the way you expect him to be, the way you remember him?"

Christine looked up. Mme. Giry had sounded so strange, so... she did not know why, but somehow she had suddenly had the impression as if her foster mother knew more than she let on. "What is it, Mme. Giry?" she begged, overcome by fear and worry. What if something terrible had happened to Erik in the meantime?

"You do know something about him, please, Mme. Giry, what is it? I need to know!" Christine suddenly paled. "He is not...?" she asked, her eyes wide with fear. "Dead?"

Mme. Giry shook her head. "Not to my knowledge," she stated.

"But there is something about him, and you do know it!" Christine accused her. "You said he had not contacted you, but that was a lie, wasn't it? You have had news from him!"

Mme. Giry sadly shook her head. "No, Christine," she said, "he has not contacted me. He …. " she paused again, uncertain of how to break the terrible news to the girl in front of her. "He is in no condition to contact me," she finally mumbled.

"He is...," Christine managed to whisper. "Has he been caught? Imprisoned?"

"No," Mme. Giry grasped for Christine's hand and patted it reassuringly. "No, it's not that," she repeated. "Calm down, ma petite, and I will tell you everything."

But Christine could not let go of her fears that easily. "Injured then?" she asked. "How? When? The mob, the fire? How bad is it? Where is he? I need to go to him at once, he needs someone to nurse him back to health..."

"Calm down," Mme. Giry told her once again. "He is not injured, but sick, very sick, though as far as I know, he is not in immediate danger."

"Sick," Christine repeated, dejectedly. "How? Why? I mean, what disease is he suffering from, what caused his illness and how do you know?"

Mme. Giry pulled Christine close. "Let's start with your last question," she said. "There is this Persian gentleman, that Erik is friends with, a Monsieur Nadir Khan. Erik is in his care now, and he is the person who informed me of the situation."

Christine nodded. "I see," she whispered. "And what did this Monsieur Khan tell you?"

Mme. Giry sighed. "Erik apparently went to his friend the night of the fire, but he did not quite make it there," she repeated what she had learned from Nadir. "He collapsed in front of Monsieur Khan's apartment. Fortunately, his servant Darius went to investigate what had caused the loud thump, and that's how they found Erik. He was burning up with fever."

Christine's eyes widened. "What could have caused that?" she asked. "He was not ill at all, when I last saw him!"

"Depression," Mme. Giry mumbled, "it was a nervous fever..."

"Because of me!" Christine felt like she herself would collapse any moment. With shaky voice she continued, "I caused this, he got ill, because I left him! My poor, poor Erik! Where is he? I need to go to him at once!"

Mme. Giry pulled her back into the chair. "You can't go to him right away," she told Christine. "He is currently not in Paris. Now let me tell you the rest of it, and if you still want to see Erik then, I promise I will help you."

Christine paled. "There is more?" she asked crestfallen. How much worse could things be? She had caused her poor Angel a high fever, his condition had been so bad that he had not even quite made it to his friend's home. "Is he... is it … will he die?"

"The fever is under control," Mme. Giry reassured Christine. "Apparently it was touch and go for a while, but Monsieur Khan used some special brew that he knows from his home country and that medication saved Erik's life. The fever has broken, and he is out of immediate danger."

Christine breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God!"she whispered. "But he has probably been weakened by the fever and needs to regain his strength?"

Mme. Giry hesitated. Christine sounded so hopeful that Erik would be fine. How could she tell her that his condition had taken a turn for the worse? "I guess that, too," she finally said, "but Christine, he has not regained consciousness yet."

Christine nervously rang her hands. "What does that mean?" she asked, shaking with worry. "Why not? What else is wrong with him?"

Mme. Giry had tears in her eyes now. God, that was harder than she had thought! Christine obviously cared even more deeply for Erik than she had believed, and what she had to tell her now would most likely break the young woman's heart. She herself only cared for Erik like a brother and seeing him in such a condition had caused her incredible pain. How would Christine take the news?

"It means," Mme. Giry said, fighting hard to remain composed and not to burst into tears, "that Erik apparently does not want to wake up. That he has retreated into the depth of his mind in order to avoid facing a painful reality..."

Christine was shaking wildly now, tears streaming down her face. "My fault!" she sobbed. "I am to blame for this! I alone! I broke his heart! Oh, Madame," she wailed, "I not only left him, I also said such cruel things to him, things I never really meant, called him a false friend and said that the true distortion was in his soul, not his face!"

Mme. Giry wrapped her arms around the sobbing girl. "You had every right to say such things to Erik after the way he behaved recently," she tried to calm Christine. "I have known him for far longer than you, my dear, and I, too, was beginning to feel like my trust in him had been misplaced." She sighed. "I know that deep down he is a decent person, but boy, does he sometimes make it hard for us to realize that!"

"Will he... is he...," Christine stammered between sobs, "is this permanent?"

Mme. Giry sighed again. "We hope not," she said. "For if it is, then Erik won't live much longer. You see," she explained, "he is not able to do anything by himself in this condition, he is unable to eat, and there is only so much you can feed him when you never know for sure if he will swallow whatever you put in his mouth..."

Christine's eyes widened in shock. "He might starve if we cannot wake him?" she asked horrified. And as Mme. Giry nodded, she continued, "how much longer...?"

"A few weeks, probably," Mme. Giry explained. "At least that's Monsieur Khan's estimate. He said that Erik never has eaten much, thus his body will be able to carry on with little nourishment for longer than most people's would, but since they only try liquid food such as broth, fruit juice, milk to avoid him choking on a bite, they are aware they cannot keep him alive forever."

Christine was listening attentively now. Every bit of information she received could be vital in helping her beloved Angel Erik recover. "What can be done to make him regain consciousness?" she asked softly. "Or must we just wait and pray that he does wake up one day?"

"Monsieur Khan has been reading up on that condition," Mme. Giry explained. "He thinks that the best way is to stimulate all of Erik's senses, to somehow make him want to return to the world... That's why they took him to the countryside," she added. "The wind, the smell of fresh grass, the songs of the birds, they hope that all that will help Erik."

Christine smiled. "I need to go to him right away," she announced. "I will sing to him and tell him how much he means to me, remind him of how happy we have been in the past when he taught me to sing, I will do everything in my power to make him come back to us."

Mme. Giry smiled. How brave and courageous Christine was! And how deep her love for her former teacher must be! "I will immediately write to Mademoiselle Perrault to let her know that you will be arriving in Boscherville tomorrow," she informed Christine. "And ask her to act as your chaperone for the time being. Yes, I would prefer to go with you," she continued, "but the Vicomte might get suspicious if we all leave together."

Christine looked at her foster mother questioningly. "Boscherville?" she asked, "where is that? And who is this Mademoiselle Perrault?"

"Marie Perrault is Erik's godmother," Mme. Giry stated, "and the next door neighbor, in fact the only neighbor of the house Erik inherited from his mother. That's where Monsieur Khan and his servant have taken him. The village is called Boscherville, and it's in the vicinity of Rouen."

Christine nodded. "Tomorrow...," she whispered. "I can't go there right away?"

Mme. Giry resolutely shook her head. "Definitely not," she told Christine. "First, the next train in that direction only leaves tomorrow morning." She had checked out the time table in the hope of being able to sneak out of Paris under a pretext soon and see how Erik was doing. "Second, I need to make sure somebody will be meeting you at the train station, and I'd rather this someone be Mademoiselle Perrault than Monsieur Khan or his servant. We have to think of your reputation as well. Officially you will have to be a guest of hers and you will have to stay with her in her house. And the most important reason, why you cannot leave right away, is the Vicomte. He will soon be here for his daily visit. Dry your tears, cool your eyes so that they won't look too red, and once he's here, we'll tell him that you feel the need to get away from it all for a while – alone, which means neither him nor me and Meg anywhere near you, and that I have seen this coming and have therefore contacted a few friends and distant relatives asking them if one of them could put you up for a few weeks. We will make it sound vague, as if we were not sure where you will end up, but we will also make it clear that we are expecting an answer any day now, and that you could be gone within hours after we receive word from one of these people I have asked to take you in for a while. For, you probably understand that we cannot tell him where you are going. He might want to visit you and that could put Erik in danger."

Christine nodded. That plan sounded good to her. She immediately went and washed her face, cooling her eyes. When Raoul arrived half an hour later, she did not have to act in order to seem depressed and listless. She only had to think of Erik's current condition and her eyes would take on that sad, painful look.

"Christine, you really have me worried," Raoul remarked. "Are you ill? You are so pale today."

"Christine is still very badly shaken because of all she went through recently," Mme. Giry chimed in. "She has been valiantly trying to be strong and hide this from you, Monsieur, so as not to cause you worry, but I fear she has reached the point, where she is not able to do so any longer."

"Christine, my dear, why didn't you listen to me when I told you to marry me at once and come to Perros with me?" Raoul asked, sightly annoyed. "You need to get away from all of this, from the city that holds such terrible memories!"

Christine smiled weakly, thinking that the most terrible memories for her were the things she had said to Erik.

"That was sweet of you, Raoul," Christine assured her fiancé. "But I think I need to get away not just from Paris, but from everything and everybody that reminds me of the past. At least for a certain time."

Mme. Giry was quick to make use of the opening Christine had given her. "Yes, I have come to that conclusion as well," she stated. "I know that you love us all, Christine, but I think it is best if you go somewhere new, without any of us. I have therefore written to some of my old friends from childhood and to two distant cousins of mine, all of which live in the countryside in various parts of France, asking them if they would be able and willing to take you in for a few weeks. I am actually expecting an answer from at least one, if not all of them any day now. As soon as the first one confirms she will have you, I am sending you off to stay with her!"

She smiled at Christine encouragingly. "I am sure that new surroundings and new people will be the answer and help you get over those experiences in no time. Once you are ready, you will come back to Paris," she said. Then, turning to Raoul, she added, "and then we can discuss your marriage, Vicomte!"


	8. Reunion

So, there it is, the long awaited chapter of Christine and Erik meeting again! I hope you will enjoy it! And thank you so much to all my readers, to those of you, who have added this story to their favorites or have put it on alert, and a very, very special thank you to my very dear reviewers. You always make my day with your nice comments on my story!

Anyway, on to the most important reunion, but please keep in mind, I don't own these characters...

Chapter 8 – Reunion

Marie Perrault was very surprised to receive a letter with the morning post. She very rarely received any mail at all. Her cousin's granddaughter wrote to her every now and then, but this could not have come from her. Marie did not recognize the handwriting at all, and the return address was hard to read anyway, it looked as if somebody had made sure to smear the ink when it was still wet. She looked at the stamp. Paris. The letter was coming from Paris. She suddenly was very eager to read that letter. Was it possible that it had been written by the lady Monsieur Khan had mentioned? The other friend of her poor godson Erik?

She sighed at the thought of Erik. Even though she knew everythig he had done recently, the boy's current condition broke her heart. After all, she had carried Erik in her arms when he had been a tiny, innocent baby. Madeleine had never bothered with her infant. In fact, she had not been too pleased with Marie's interest in him. Instead of seeing the child as a blessing, she had seen the poor little thing as a curse, an undeserved punishment that fate had dealt her.

But Marie had loved the little one, she had made sure that the boy was properly clothed and fed, she had tried repeatedly to convince Madeleine to open her heart to her son, and when the boy had run away, it had broken Marie's heart.

She had always prayed that her little godson would be safe and would find a place for himself in this world, but it had been years before she learned what had become of him. Only once Madeleine had died and there had been the note in the papers looking for her missing heir, this Persian gentleman, Monsieur Khan, had contacted her. He had told her that Erik was still alive, that he was currently living a very secretive life in Paris and had no desire to return home. She had known he was speaking the truth, for he had been able to describe Erik's deformity in detail, and he had shown her a letter in the characteristic handwriting that she remembered only too well. He had told her that Erik was somehow manipulating the managers at the Opéra Populaire there, but had not really gone into details. Of course, once the papers had been full of stories about the murderous "Phantom" she had known that it was her boy, and once she had understood that unrequited love had driven him to commit all these horrors, she had pitied him and felt guilty at the same time. She had always known the boy needed love to thrive, why had she not given him more of it and why had she not worked harder to make Madeleine see the wrongness of her ways? She understood only too well, that yet another disappointment, rejection by yet another woman he loved, would have had a disastrous effect on her dear Erik.

She had therefore not hesitated for one moment, when Monsieur Khan had asked her if she would be willing to help him care for Erik. She had not thought about the crimes the boy had committed, but of the pain he had had to suffer – again. She had forgiven Erik and prayed for him, both, for his health and his soul.

When Monsieur Khan had arrived with his charge the following day, Marie had been there to help get the patient settled in. It had broken her heart to see her beloved boy in such a condition, and she had sworn she would do everything in her power to help him regain consciousness.

Monsieur Khan had told her that he had given her address to a Mme. Giry, another loyal friend of Erik's, who also happened to be the foster mother of the young soprano Erik had fallen in love with. It was not completely unlikely that this Mme. Giry would learn something from the girl that could help them with Erik's treatment. In such a case the woman would contact her. Was it possible that that was what this letter was all about? That Mme. Giry was trying to tell them something that might help them decide how to best help their dear boy?

Marie quickly opened the envelope and began to read. Her eyes turned wide with wonder at those fantastic news. The girl did love Erik after all! Mme. Giry was sending her here, she would be arriving this same day, with the afternoon train!

Marie fell to her knees and thanked God for this miracle. Deep in her heart she knew that this would be the turning point for Erik. The girl's arrival would help him recover and with her by his side, he would be able to start a new life. Things were finally starting to look good for her dear Erik!

She quickly took the hidden shortcut through the hedgerow to the neighboring house. The house that had been Madeleine's and Charles' and now belonged to Erik, the house where her sick boy and his two caregivers now resided.

She found all three men in the parlor. Erik had been dressed by his two friends and comfortably settled into an armchair. Monsieur Khan was reading to him, while the other man, Darius, was tending to a few flower pots on the window sill.

Marie smiled at Erik, lovingly squeezed his hand and wished him a good morning, before turning to Nadir. "May I have a word with you, Monsieur Khan?" she asked. "I have important news."

Nadir nodded. "I have something to discuss with your dear godmother, Erik," he informed the impassive patient. "Darius will read to you during my short absence. I will be right back, my boy, don't you worry!"

Darius took the book from his master and started reading out to Erik, some technical manual about architecture. They had decided to stay away from anything even remotely sounding like a love story...

Nadir followed Marie into the kitchen. "What is it?" he asked. "Have we been discovered? Is Erik in danger here?"

Marie shook her head and without uttering one single word held the letter out to Nadir.

Nadir grasped it and began to read. When he was finished he didn't know what to say. After a while, he turned to Marie and asked. "What are you going to do?"

"I will go and meet the girl at the train station, of course," Marie told him. "And once she is here, I will bring her over, so that she can see Erik – or rather, he can see her. Hopefully, her presence will bring him out of his lethargy."

Nadir frowned. "Are you sure we can trust her?" he asked. "What if she changes her mind again and decides she does not want to have anything to do with Erik after all..."

"We have to trust her," Marie decided. "We just have to risk it. It is our boy's best chance at recovery. Wouldn't it be wonderful if he could not only get well again, but at last find love?" Her whole face lit up at that thought.

Nadir nodded. He was nowhere near as optimistic as Mademoiselle Perrault. Neither Mme. Giry's brief visit nor meeting his godmother Marie again had made a difference for Erik. Was it therefore realistic to hope that Christine Daaé of all people would be able to get him out of his lethargy? What if seeing her only reminded Erik of the pain she had caused him and thus made him retreat even further into his subconscious mind?

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," he remarked dryly.

Xxxx

Christine's train arrived on time at the small station of Boscherville. She looked around, then spotted an elderly lady on the platform. She walked towards her, shyly asking, "Mademoiselle Perrault?"

The lady hugged her and nodded. "Yes, my dear," she said a bit louder than necessary, for the benefit of the train conductor. "It's so good to see you! Antoinette told me that you need some fresh air to recover from your pneumonia, I am sure you will be fully recovered soon!"

Christine must have looked puzzled, for the lady whispered to her, "play along. This is the cover story I am giving to my neighbors, that a friend's daughter is staying with me in order to recuperate. We don't want to draw attention to Erik's presence, now do we?"

Christine smiled. She understood only too well. "I am so grateful you are allowing me to stay with you," she said loud enough that the conductor could overhear her. "The air in Paris is too smokey and not good for my lungs at all, the doctor said."

During that conversation, Christine's bags had been unloaded as well and Marie gave instructions to have them brought to her house later. She then took Christine's arm. "Come, come," she encouraged the young woman. "It is not far!"

Christine would have wanted to ask her new acquaintance about Erik at once, but she understood the wisdom of not mentioning him while they could be overheard by others. She would have to wait till they had arrived at Mademoiselle Perrault's home.

Once the two ladies had reached their destination and the door was safely closed behind them, Marie smiled at Christine. "Let me look at you, child," she said. "Is it true, do you love the boy? Despite his face and all?"

Christine nodded. "Oh yes, Mademoiselle Perrault. I do love Erik. It just took me a while to realize how much he means to me. How is he? Can I see him? Has there been any improvement of his condition yet?"

Marie sadly shook her head. "No, not yet, Mademoiselle, despite everything Monsieur Khan and his servant have tried so far. These two really do care for him. But hopefully now that you are here, things will get better."

Christine swallowed. "I don't know how I can go on living, if he does not recover," she whispered. "He means the world to me, and I... I caused all this!" Tears were welling in her eyes, and Marie pulled her into her arms.

"Now, now, don't even think that," she told Christine. "We just have to have faith, that everything will turn out for the best. Never give up hope, my dear. We are a strong team, you, me, and those two Persian men. We will succeed. We love Erik. Love is the most powerful medicine there is. Even if we don't succeed today, there is still a chance that we will get through to him tomorrow. As long as he lives, there is hope! Now come, my dear, I guess you want to see Erik as soon as possible?"

Christine nodded. "Oh please, can we go to him right away?"

Marie nodded and showed Christine the hidden shortcut through the hedgerow. Nadir was waiting for them on the other side.

He greeted Christine, then told her, "I will bring you to Erik now, but please, Mademoiselle, keep in mind that he is very sick. And his condition is... heartbreaking for those that love him. But it won't help him if you have a nervous breakdown in front of him. I can therefore only allow you to see him, if you can promise me that you will remain calm and composed, no matter how affected you will be by his condition. Can you promise me that? Will you be strong enough?"

Christine nodded. "God will give me the necessary strength," she said, "so that I can help my dearest Angel."

Nadir gave her a long look, as if to make sure he could trust her words, then nodded. "Fine," he said. "Let's give it a try."

He lead Christine into the parlor, where Erik was propped up in his usual armchair. "There is a visitor for you, Erik," Nadir announced, trying his best to sound cheerful. "And she is much prettier than Darius or me or even your godmother."

Christine almost forgot her promise as she saw Erik. She barely suppressed a sob. She was not sure what she had expected, but reality by far exceeded all her worst fears. The man in the chair was Erik, all right, but there was nothing left of him. He was sitting there, slightly hunched over, immobile, his eyes staring at her blankly. She knew at once that he did not really see her, that her presence had not registered with him. His mind, his genius, were gone. He was only a shell of what he had been before.

"Oh Angel," she whispered, then hurried to his side. She fell to her knees next to his chair, wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest. "I am here now," she told him. "I have finally found you, Angel. I will never leave you again." She looked up at him. "I love you," she confessed, "I didn't know it at first, but I have finally realized that I do love you."

She closed her eyes, thinking about how different she had imagined the situation to be, when she would finally confess her love to her Angel.

Darius approached with a bowl full of soup. "It is time for master Erik to eat," he explained. "Maybe with you there, Mademoiselle, his appetite will improve?"

Christine resolutely got to her feet. "Show me," she told Darius and Nadir. "How do you make Erik eat? Let me try it."

A tiny smile graced Nadir's face. He was beginning to hope that the young woman's presence might indeed make a difference. She had not gone into hysterics at seeing Erik's condition, although he could see how deeply affected she was, and she was willing to try and help with his care.

"Let me show you," he therefore told Christine, sitting down next to Erik, and holding a spoon full of soup to his patient's mouth, gently nudging it open with the tip of the spoon. Then he quickly poured the soup into Erik's mouth and slightly massaged his throat to make him swallow it. This caused Erik to cough and sneeze, spitting out part of the soup Nadir had tried to feed him, but in the end he swallowed about half a spoonful.

Christine once again had to fight tears as she watched Nadir's ill-fated attempt at making Erik eat. "Let me," she begged the Persian. "It is the least I can do for him."

She sat down next to Erik, filling the spoon and holding it to Erik's mouth. "Here, my Angel," she cooed, "try this delicious broth. You have been very ill, you must rebuild your strength, come, open your mouth and eat, do it for me!"

Xxxxx

Erik felt annoyed again. Something or somebody was once again trying to break through his thick, protective walls, to reach him from the outside, to maybe even coax him into leaving his safe place and come out into that hurtful, painful world again. He did not want that. No, he would never go back there again, but...

Something was calling to him. Like a siren's song, asking him to lower his guard. He did not want to, not really, but his resolve was weakening. He was not going to take his walls down, oh no. But would it really hurt to make a tiny crack into one of them? Just one, and only a very tiny one, just big enough to let that alluring whisper in, that pleased him so. Like the echo of a long forgotten memory, or the …. the first breeze of spring.

Xxxx

Erik slightly opened his mouth and once Christine soothingly massaged his throat, his swallowing reflex set in and he swallowed the entire spoonful of broth.

Christine beamed. "You are doing great, Angel," she reassured him. "I knew you could do it for me. Now once again, please. Remember, you have to get well again, to rebuild your strength..."

Half an hour later, Erik had finished his bowl of broth. Nadir grinned over his whole face. "Good boy, Erik," he told his patient. "Now Darius and I will clean you up, and then you can go to bed."

Christine offered to help them even further, but Nadir told her off. "No, no, Mademoiselle Daaé," he said. "You cannot help when we are bathing Erik. Mme. Giry would have my head on a platter if I allowed you to see him in any state of undress!"

Christine blushed. She had not thought about that.

"But once we are done," Nadir promised, "you can come and say good night to him, maybe tuck him in."

Christine liked that idea, and once Nadir returned, announcing that Erik had been settled into his bed, she followed him up to her Angel's bedroom. She sat down at Erik's bedside and reached for his hand.

"You must sleep now, my love," she told him. "I will sing you a lullaby to help you sleep. You need rest just as much as you need food."

And she began to sing an old Swedish lullaby that her father used to sing to her when she was a small child. Once she was finished, she bent down and kissed Erik on the forehead. "Sleep now, Angel," she whispered. "So that you can get well soon and return to me."

Then she tiptoed out of the room.

Nadir was waiting for her outside. He motioned her to go back down with him. Once they were back in the parlor, he smiled.

"I did not want to say it up there," he told Christine. "One never knows, how much Erik does understand of what we say in front of him, therefore I avoid talking about the details of his illness in his presence, but you, Mademoiselle, are a godsend. He has not eaten as much as today since he arrived at my door that night, and I bet he is resting more peacefully now than he has in a long time. Don't be discouraged, if he does not snap out of it immediately. I know, we all secretly hoped for that to happen. But he has made huge progress today, and I am not giving up on our boy just yet. With you here, I am confident that we will be able to help him make a full recovery."


	9. Hope?

Hi everybody,

thank you all for your continued support, for reading, for adding to favorites, for putting on alert, and most of all, for reviewing! Several of you found my previous chapter "adorable" - that was exactly the reaction I was hoping for, I am so thrilled!

Anyway, let's see what happens next, shall we? And keep in mind that I still don't know anything or anybody - sigh!

Chapter 9 – Hope?

Over a week had passed since Christine's arrival at Boscherville. Erik's condition had not really changed, but now that Christine was around all day, talking and singing to him, and feeding him, Erik was eating more. He had stopped losing weight and it was becoming clear that the immediate danger of him starving to death because of his condition did no longer exist.

As much as Christine was relieved to know that at least Erik's life was not at risk any longer, the lack of any tangible improvement, the seeming hopelessness of his condition weighed upon her heavily. The longer Erik's catatonia lasted, the less likely it became that he might one day be able to come out of his stupor again. To see him, the once so vivid, intelligent man reduced to such a state of helplessness, where he had to be dressed, bathed and fed by others, constantly pulled at Christine's heart-strings and his blank stare which did not show any recognition felt to her like daggers. Oh, what would she give now to have him back, him being his old self again! She would not even mind his temper anymore! For all she cared, he could scream at her, call her names, chastise her for her betrayal, she would gladly endure it all, if only her Angel, her Erik would recover!

At first Christine had hoped that there would be steady progress and that Erik's condition would improve a little bit every day, but it soon became clear to her that the initial progress she had made, the fact that he was now eating his broth and mashed vegetables and that he seemed to rest more peacefully at night, was all there was. No matter how hard she tried, she did not succeed in coaxing him to react even in the slightest way to anything she did or said, to move even one of his fingers on his own.

Christine did her best to remain cheerful and to project confidence in his imminent recovery to Erik, whenever she was around him, but to do so became harder for her every day. The more days passed without any additional improvement, any sign, any tiny detail that might have given her cause for hope, the more defeated and hopeless she herself became. She very often cried herself to sleep at night, and even during the day, there were moments, where she had to leave Erik's side under a pretext, because she could not bear watching him in his pitiful condition any longer. In such cases, Nadir usually took over from her, tending to Erik while Christine tried to compose herself again.

Once Erik was put to bed, Nadir normally talked to Christine, thanked her for her help and sometimes gave her a pep-talk, reminding her that Erik had already made some progress, and that it was only because of their combined effort that he was still alive and as well as he could be under the circumstances.

"The boy is strong," Nadir told Christine one evening, "and resilient. If he were not, he would not have survived in the first place, and he would not have come as far as he has already. He needs time. Don't despair, Mademoiselle. He is a fighter, I know it. He may not want to fight at the moment, but by eating more, he has already begun to do so. It is a start, a first step. It may take a while, till he is ready for the next one, we just have to be patient. Now that we know that he won't starve anytime soon, we are in no hurry. We can wait, and we can continue to do our best to encourage Erik to start fighting a bit harder. The important thing is for us to make him understand that we do care for him, that he does have a place in this world, here with us. Once he accepts that, he will be ready to come back to us, I know he will. Believe me, Mademoiselle. You have to believe it, to have faith that eventually our boy will be fine. I am confident that we will get him back one day, you must be, too. I think he can sense it if we believe in him, in his ability to fight that illness, and that sooner or later our faith in him will trigger a reaction."

Marie pretty much shared Nadir's opinion, but just like Christine, she found it hard to keep her hopes up, when day after day passed without Erik making further progress. Her confidence that Erik would make a full recovery began to falter, and the sadness that now always lingered at the bottom of Christine's eyes was just as hard on her as Erik's continued apathy. Whenever she saw the two of them together, Christine caring for Erik in the most loving way, telling him over and over again how much she loved him, how much she missed him, and begging him to come back to her, caressing his deformed cheek and kissing him, Marie felt like crying.

Wasn't this too sad? There was this woman that had given her heart to Erik, that could look at his hideous, bizarre face with love, there was his chance at happiness, at a fulfilled life with a beloved, loving wife at his side, and he was unable to grasp this opportunity? And the girl, too. How long had it taken her to realize that her happiness lay with Erik, only to find out that now, that she finally knew where she belonged, it might be too late?

Marie prayed every night that Erik would get better and that he and Christine might get their chance at happiness. Oh, how much she wished that these two could have their happy ending!

Xxxx

Nadir was a bit more practically-minded than the two women. He knew that it had already been several weeks now that Erik had used any one of his limbs. If he did not soon start to move again, there was now the new danger of his muscles beginning to atrophy. Nadir therefore decided that it was imperative to subject Erik to some kind of exercise, to some forced movement of his arms and legs, to keep his muscles in good shape. He therefore designed a series of movements that he and Darius made Erik go through on a daily basis. They extended his arms and legs, made him bend his knees, flex his fingers, turn his head, all sorts of movements that a healthy person would do naturally over the course of a day, but Erik could not.

Also, as March turned into April and the days became warmer, they insisted on taking Erik out onto the terrace at the back side of the house for a while every day. They wrapped him into warm clothing, put a blanket over his knees, and sat him down in a comfortable deck-chair, facing the garden. The clean, fresh, spring air did Erik some obvious good, it brought a healthy color to his cheeks, but like any of the other attempts to stimulate his senses and entice him to rejoin the world, these outings into the garden did not lead to any further improvement of his condition.

Xxxx

Erik was content. He was certain that he was dreaming. For if he allowed his consciousness to approach that tiny little crack in his thick, protective walls, it almost seemed as if Christine – his Christine of all people! - were talking to him. Not just talking, cooing to him in the most adorable way, asking him to come back to her... Sometimes he was almost tempted to break down his walls, to look outside and see if she was really there, then he remembered. This could not really happen. This most definitely had to be a dream, for it had been her to leave him, not the other way round. It was her that would have to come back, not him. What he thought he heard was wishful thinking at best, this could never happen in reality.

It was a dream. It had to be a dream. She could not really be there, not her. Not after she had made it so terribly clear that fateful night what she thought of him.

Therefore, whenever Erik felt too tempted to listen to the melodious voice that talked to him, begged him to rejoin the world, he reminded himself of all the reasons, why this could not actually be happening, why this voice, that kept calling to him, must be a figment of his imagination.

"First, she loves that boy," Erik reminded himself. "She left with him. Second, she despises and fears you. She said your soul is distorted, she thought you capable of raping her, she called you a false friend, she said you made her cry tears of hate. Therefore, she is not really there, waiting for you to come out of hiding. This is not real. It's maybe a trick that this meddlesome Persian is using to lure you out, but more likely wishful thinking. She cannot be here. She cannot. She would never come to me out of her own free will. She is probably glad she does not have to see me ever again."

No, Erik decided. He was not going to get out of his safe little place and face all those horrors, the pain caused by rejection, ever again. There was no point in going back there, not even for music, which – strangely enough - was beckoning to him in the form of Christine's glorious singing voice. No, he had suffered enough. He was not going to subject himself to that kind of pain ever again. And he retreated once more into the deepest corner of his self-imposed prison.

Xxxx

Two days after Christine's departure to Boscherville, Raoul made his way to Mme. Giry's home again, hoping to see his fiancée. He was getting slightly annoyed. Things were not exactly going the way he had planned. He had done all in his power to free Christine from the unhealthy influence of this criminal posing as an angel. No, not just any angel, he reminded himself, her own, personal Angel of Music, sent to her by her idolized, long departed father.

Raoul sighed. What a whole bunch of crap this all was! How was it possible that Christine had believed such a lie? She was an intelligent woman, how could she ever have fallen for this scheme? And he once again came to the only possible explanation: that freak, that – thing – must have somehow hypnotized her, manipulated her, made her obey his every whim. Raoul had hoped that once he would get her away from the monster's sphere of influence, she would be able to shake this spell, to see the fiend's machinations for what they really were: a criminal's attempt to control her like a marionette, to use her for his own – probably very unsavory – purposes, to suck what little willpower she had left out of her, and make her his own, personal lapdog.

But somehow Raoul's plans had not yielded the desired effect. He had not succeeded in catching – or better yet – killing the so called Opera Ghost. On the contrary, that demon had abducted Christine right off the stage, and when Raoul had followed them, determined to fight for Christine's freedom, that disgusting, hideous thing had overpowered him and had used him as a means to manipulate Christine even further – to make her promise she would stay with him as his wife. Raoul almost puked at the thought of Christine having to submit to the carnal desires of this creature. It had been bad enough to watch her kiss that … that... whatever that thing was.

Even though he kept reminding himself that she had done it in a desperate attempt to safe his own life, Raoul could not quite get over the fact that Christine had been able to touch her sweet, innocent lips to the revolting, bloated mouth of that monster without starting to retch.

Raoul knew he should be grateful to Christine for having done that, in order to save his life. Truth be told, this approach had been successful, she had gotten them both away. But still... He could not help but feel as if Christine had somehow desecrated herself with those kisses. And yet... he could have gotten over it, and after a few days, when he could be reasonably certain that she had washed her mouth out with the most powerful soap or detergent she could lay hands on to get the foul taste of that creature out, he even had kissed her again.

He had a feeling, as if everything could have gone well despite... well, despite this contamination of hers... if Christine had agreed to marry him immediately after that night and had left Paris with him. They could have gotten away from this town, where such awful things had happened to both of them and tried to find the peace and innocence of their childhood again in Perros.

They could have been rid of that killer's influence.

But somehow, Christine could not be convinced to leave Paris. Or to marry him, for that matter. One would think that after the prospect of having to allow this barely human thing to lasciviously paw her, the chance of becoming the lawful, wedded wife of a respected citizen like himself, a member of the nobility, young, rich and handsome, would have been any girl's dream. But not so Christine. She somehow had not jumped at his offer of immediate marriage. Was she so sure of his feelings that she could afford toying with him, making him wait? Or what else could be the reason?

She had mumbled some incoherent stuff as an explanation why she did not want to get married at once, saying that she needed to get over the experiences of that night first, and somehow she had seemed offended at his demand that she should not perform anymore, once they'd be married. But even if he had wanted – and he most definitely did not, for why on earth would he want to allow her to return to that building, that same stage, where the creature might still be lurking? - but even _if_ he had wanted, he could not have granted her that wish. It was simply impossible for a Vicomtesse to display herself publicly in such a way, maybe even in rather revealing costumes. No, such behavior would not have been appropriate for his wife. It was bad enough that everybody in his social circle knew that she had at one point graced the stage of the Opéra Populaire, some might still look down upon her for that matter. The recent scandal with the fiend and the fire at the Opéra certainly had made things even worse. Therefore it was of the utmost importance that once she was his wife, Christine would behave impeccably and do nothing, absolutely nothing at all, that might remind people of her unfortunate past on the stage.

Once she was his wife... Raoul was beginning to doubt that would ever happen. Instead of strengthening their bond, that night seemed to have driven them further apart. Raoul could understand that Christine needed some time to get over those terrible experiences, really, he could. But what he could not quite understand was why she seemed to be turning away from him, her savior. Wouldn't it be natural for a woman to throw herself into the open arms of the man that had risked life and limb to free her from an unsavory, obsessive, not quite human suitor? What was holding Christine back? Surely that nonsense about not having realized before that she could not perform anymore was just an excuse? True, it might be an exhilarating feeling to stand on that stage and be adored by the masses, but on the other hand, it was hard work, and a theater was not a very respectable place to work at. The dancers and singers very often were considered fair game by rich and influential patrons. Any woman in her right mind should be overjoyed to be offered a chance to get away from such an environment. But not Christine.

Raoul shook his head. He had tolerated her caprices long enough. It definitely was time that he talked some sense into Christine. He needed to make her understand that under the circumstances, the recent scandal and the ensuing gossip, his continued willingness to honor their engagement and make her his wife was the only way for her to come away from it all with her reputation at least somewhat intact. People might still wonder about what exactly had transpired between her and the creature, but nobody would think it possible that he, Raoul Vicomte de Chagy, would still want to marry her if her virtue had indeed been compromised. That scandalous performance might prove a problem, but they would have to pretend that she had been bewitched by the fiend, unable for quite a while to fight off whichever spell he had cast on her, until she had finally broken his hold of her and ripped his mask off.

Yes, that might work. Raoul felt relief wash over him as he remembered how Christine had exposed the creature's hideousness to the entire audience. He would have to use this action of hers as proof that she detested the monster and had been valiantly fighting to shake off his influence. This was the way he had to present things to his peers. But in order to convince them that the only man Christine had ever been interested in was he, himself, it would be imperative that they got married as soon as possible. They had wasted enough time already. They could not afford to wait any longer. He would talk to Christine today and when he had explained the situation to her and to that boneheaded Mme. Giry, he would go and apply for the special marriage license at once. If everything went according to plan, they could be married in three days and on their way to Perros...


	10. Where is she?

Hi everybody,

thank you all *so* much for reading, for adding to favorites, for putting on alert, and most of all, for reviewing! There have been a few new reviewers recently, who I want to welcome, namely QueenOfHearts3, Dkk5, and grandma paula, plus a nameless guest. Also, a heartfelt welcome to returning reviewer BadassSyd, good to have you back on board! And my warmest thanks to my loyal "have reviewed every chapter so far"-group, You Are Love, Filhound, MarilynKC and Ammaviel - you guys rock, and I promise that Erik will wake up soon - next week, it seems. ;-)

grandma paula, as to your question, I write mostly Phantom stories, at least here on I have published those exclusively. If you remember the old "Beauty and the Beast"-TV-series with Linda Hamilton and Ron Perlman, I regularly write one chapter for a "Round Robin" for the annual Winterfest-online in February, though I have to admit I write on the S3-one, which does not have Linda Hamilton's character. So, yeah, other than Phantom, that's mostly it, no published books or such, and most definitely no original stories.

Anyway, now on to our next chapter, and I promise you, the plot thickens... Just keep in mind that I do not own anything or anybody...

Chapter 10 – Where is she?

Mme. Giry greeted Raoul friendly, but a bit reserved. She had feared this encounter, expecting the Vicomte to be less than understanding of Christine's supposed desire to get away from everything for a while, so that she could come to terms with what had happened and find her peace of mind again. But then, maybe if that really had been the case, he would have understood. Maybe his lack of understanding had its roots in the fact that he sensed that there was something not quite right, something that the ladies were not telling him. She therefore knew she had to tread carefully around him. For neither did she want to arouse his suspicion that Erik might still be alive and somehow responsible for Christine's reluctance to marry her fiancé at once, nor did she want to turn Raoul off completely, just in case Erik was too far gone to make a recovery. In that case she wanted for Christine to still have the option of marrying the Vicomte.

She therefore welcomed Raoul and lead him to her parlor. Once she had made sure he was comfortably seated, she began, "my dear Vicomte, I know you have come to see Christine, but the case we have been talking about the last time, has happened. One of my friends has offered to take the dear girl in for a few weeks, so that she can have some change of scenery, which will hopefully help her put her mind at ease again. I am therefore afraid, you cannot see her today, for Christine is not here any longer. I sent her to live with my friend as soon as that letter arrived."

Raoul gritted his teeth. He did not like that development at all. "You sent her away without giving us a chance to say good-bye?" he asked, slightly annoyed. "Christine is my fiancée after all, she would have deserved a proper farewell, _if_ – and mind you, my dear Mme. Giry, I am not really convinced that is the case – _if_ such a separation were truly necessary. I still think that Perros would have been the perfect place for us to recover from this ordeal together, as a couple. As a _married_ couple, that is."

Mme. Giry sighed. "I know, I know, Monsieur le Vicomte," she retorted, "and you may even be right about this. Unfortunately, Christine does not agree. She does not feel as if a quick wedding and a move to Perros would be helpful at the moment. She says she needs time alone, to herself, time to think about what has happened, to come to terms with it all."

She shook her head, trying to convey helplessness. "Do not think I do not understand that this attitude of hers must be hurtful to you," she continued. "For I do, and believe me, in a way I feel the same way, for she did not want me or Meg with her either. But I do love her deeply, and I understand that her needs must come first. That's why I let her go, even though it pained me to do so. After all, I have practically raised her. She came to the Opéra Populaire at the age of seven, orphaned, lonely, lost. I took her under my wings and over the years she became like my second daughter. She has been with me and Meg always, we have never been apart for even one night. I miss her terribly, and so does my Meg, but since we know that it is for her best to get some distance to everything – including all of us, that played a role in the drama – we granted her wish and let her go. Can you do the same for her, Monsieur le Vicomte?"

Raoul groaned. "It's that monster," he hissed. "He still has a hold on her. He will never let her go, her mind will never be free of him! If I were not so certain that he must have found his death in the flames – for how should he have been able to make his way undetected through the quickly forming crowd around the burning house? I mean, even me and Christine already had a hard time finding our way through the mass of patrons and performers, that had escaped from the burning building, members of the fire brigade and sensation-seeking bystanders. If he tried to escape at all, which I doubt, he must have been behind us. But with his face there is no way he would not have been recognized and either arrested or maybe lynched right away. Therefore, he must be dead, I am sure of it. But if I were not as convinced of this fact, I might actually be tempted to think that he has something to do with Christine's reluctance to marry me. That he is still somehow controlling her, forcing her to resist me, maybe biding his time until he can finally whisk her away from me for good!"

"Oh, Monsieur le Vicomte," Mme. Giry replied, pasting a somewhat forced smile on her face. "You truly have a vivid imagination. I am sure that _if_ Christine's former tutor were still alive, he would not pursue her any longer. The way I understand it, and forgive me if I am wrong, but that's what Christine told me, is that he could have had her, that she had promised to stay with him, but once he realized that he had blackmailed her into that promise, he let her go and sent her away with you. Isn't that so? I mean, if he had wanted to keep her, why would he first send her away with you and then scheme behind your back to get her back somehow? That really does not make any sense. No, I think that your fear of Christine still being controlled by him, acting under some sort of spell he has cast upon her, is completely unfounded."

Her smile was genuine now, for she had told the truth. Deep down she knew that even if Erik were in any condition now to manipulate Christine, he would not do so. He would honor his decision to let her go with the Vicomte. If there was any chance of him and Christine ever getting together again, it would have to be Christine to take the initiative.

Raoul nodded. "You are right of course," he admitted, "but you must also understand how bad this delay of our wedding will look for her. That night has caused a lot of gossip, people who saw her perform with – him – talk about the way how she seemed to melt into his embrace, as if... you know, as if she wanted this. And when he took her with him through that trapdoor... people are wondering where they went, what they might have done there... and why we are now delaying our wedding. People are beginning to talk that I must have doubts about her purity..." He let his voice trail to make Mme. Giry fully grasp what he was implying.

"Anyway," he continued, "a quick wedding is therefore imperative, it would silence those gossip-mongers and save Christine's reputation. For her own good, you therefore need to tell me, where I can find her. I will immediately apply for the special marriage license, then I can join her, wherever it is she is currently staying and we can get married at once."

Mme. Giry sighed. In a way she was touched by the Vicomte's concern about Christine's reputation, but on the other hand, she could not give away Christine's whereabouts, if for no other reason than to ensure Erik's safety. But Christine, too, needed some more time to make her final decision. She needed to spend some time with Erik, to see if he could recover, and even if he did, to determine if she truly wanted to be with him, once she had had some time to get reacquainted with him. Only if Christine had that chance to truly evaluate her chances at happiness with Erik, could she be trusted to make her final choice between her "Angel" and her childhood sweetheart.

"I am sorry," Mme. Giry therefore informed Raoul, "but I cannot tell you where Christine went. She did not want you to follow her – nor me or Meg, for that matter – but she suspected that you would do so anyway, if you knew her whereabouts. I therefore had to promise her not to tell you."

She gave him a motherly smile. "Give her the time she needs, Monsieur le Vicomte," she begged, "do it for her. I am sure she will return to us in time. Honor her wish!"

Raoul winced. That was the last thing he wanted to do. "You do not leave me much of a choice," he said miserably, then took his leave.

Raoul had almost reached his carriage which was waiting for him at the next corner, when he spotted a postman approaching Mme. Giry's house. He grinned. Of course! Christine would be corresponding with her foster mother! And letters were stamped at their point of origin. The envelope would therefore give away Christine's location, even if she had not left a return address.

He therefore asked his driver to only take his carriage around the corner, out of sight from Mme. Giry's home and to wait there. Lo and behold, a few minutes later his patience was rewarded, when the same postman that had delivered the letter to Mme. Giry turned the corner and approached a house in the street where Raoul's carriage was now parked.

Raoul waved to the man to get his attention, and once the postman had approached his equipage, Raoul asked, "good man, if I am not mistaken, I just saw you deliver a letter to an acquaintance of mine, a Mme. Giry, the lady at number 12, that street over there?"

The postman nodded. "Yes, Monsieur," he confirmed. "Until recently nobody was living there, and I never had to go to that house, yes, but today I did in fact have a letter for her."

Raoul interrupted the postman's babbling. "Of course, I know that," he said. "But my question is, you know, the lady has been quite anxiously waiting for a certain message and I would like to make sure that letter is the one she was expecting." He gave the postman his most charming smile. "Therefore, I would be much obliged to you, if you remembered where it came from? The town or village where it was posted? If you could tell me that, then I would know if she finally got the news she was hoping for."

The postman frowned and uneasily scratched his head. Reading was not his forte, and therefore he always concentrated on the addressee's name and address, and never bothered with the sender, or – Heaven forbid! - the post stamp. "It looked like a lady's handwriting," he finally decided. "If that is of any help, I mean, if you know whether or not your friend is expecting a message from a man or woman, but I am sorry, I did not pay attention …. I mean, what is important for me, is to deliver the letter to the right person, so that's what I look at, not the sender's name or address. After all, I don't know them anyway, so I don't care who wrote that letter."

Raoul groaned. Was nothing going his way today? "I see," he replied, a bit less polite. "But if I tell you that it is an affair of the utmost importance for this good lady, that I absolutely need to know if she has been contacted by the person she hoped to hear from, that I will be subjected to endless worry unless I know without a doubt that this situation has been resolved to her satisfaction, will you..."

The postman shook his head. "No, Monsieur," he whispered, fear in his voice. "If you are asking me to withhold her next letter and give it to you..."

Raoul quickly shook his head. "Of course I am not asking you anything of that sort, you imbecile!" he snorted. "What do you think of me? I am only asking you to pay attention to the place the letters my friend receives are coming from. You see, this is a very delicate matter, she will not discuss this with me openly, but since I am so worried about her,... well, if I knew she is getting letters from who I hope she is, then my mind would be much more at peace. Therefore, the next time, she receives a letter, I ask you to pay attention to the sender's address, or, in case the address is not mentioned on the envelope, to the place where it has been posted and therefore stamped. If you could tell me that, I would be very grateful." Raoul put some emphasis on the word "grateful" to make the postman understand that he would be willing to pay for that information, without actually saying so, thus avoiding being accused of trying to bribe the man.

The postman grinned. He understood perfectly even without words. And he, too, preferred that this well-dressed aristocrat had not actually promised a certain sum as remuneration. It was easier to appease his own work ethics that way. Though, truth be told, he was not exactly breaking any rules or violating the privacy of correspondence if he told this gentleman where the letters this ladyfriend of his received were coming from, for he was neither withholding the letters from her and handing them to this young fop, nor was he opening them and reading them and informing the nobleman of the letters' content.

"I can do that, Your Grace," he promised Raoul submissively, "of course, that is entirely possible. How would Your Grace want me to inform Your Highness of the place in question? For, it might take a few days until another letter arrives, and of course I cannot expect a revered person of your social standing to wait here for that long..."

Raoul rolled his eyes. "Of course not, you dolt!" he hissed, and pulling out a notebook and a pen, he wrote down his address. "That's where you will be able to find me, once you can tell me where the letters she receives are coming from. But mind you," he added, "I do have ways of fining out if you are telling me the truth or not. Therefore just coming up with the name of a place will not do. If I find out you have been lying to me..." He gave the man a stern look. "I doubt you will want to find out what would happen then," he said trying to sound at least half as threatening as his hated rival, the Phantom, could sound.

The postman nodded. "Of course, of course, Your Highness, nothing but the truth, that is understood," he mumbled, then took his leave and went his way again, ringing at the next door where he had to deliver a letter.

Raoul grinned. He had found a way to locate Christine. She might not write every day, but eventually his new ally would be able to tell him where she was hiding, and then he'd be on his way to rejoin her and marry her. Yes, it was only a question of days, soon Christine would be his wife. And he ordered his driver to take him to the registrar's office so that he could apply for the special marriage license at once.

Xxxx

Mme. Giry was relieved that the postman had come only after the Vicomte had left. That had been a close call! She did not want to think about what might have happened, had Raoul still been here, when she received Christine's letter. He might have wanted to know what Christine had written, and Mme. Giry had a feeling that this letter contained lots of things that were not meant for the Vicomte's ears. She might have had to improvise, but what if he had asked her to show him the letter? If she had refused under the pretext of privacy, he might have suspected that there were things he was not meant to learn about...

She did not want to dwell on what could have happened. She was eager to read Christine's letter, to find out if her presence had been beneficial for Erik, and how Christine felt about Erik now, that she had seen him in his pitiful condition.

She quickly tore open the envelope and read. She was glad to learn that Christine had arrived safely in Boscherville, that Mademoiselle Perrault had put her up in her guest room, that Christine found both, Mademoiselle Perrault and the Persians, very nice and helpful. Then Mme. Giry reached the passage about Erik.

"It breaks my heart," Christine had written, "to see my Angel in such a helpless, vulnerable condition. Oh, Mme. Giry, you cannot imagine how terrible I feel for having caused him such distress. If only he would recover! If only I would get a chance to make him understand how truly sorry I am for all the pain I have caused him and how much I wish to make it up to him for all the suffering he has endured. I spend as much time with him as possible, to make him feel my presence and my devotion. I talk to him, sing to him, feed him. Yes, Madame, he needs to be fed! And Monsieur Khan and his servant also need to bath him and dress him. He cannot do anything on his own! And I am not sure he realizes I am there. He seems to eat a bit more, when I am feeding him, talking to him, encouraging him to swallow the spoonful of food I have put into his mouth, and Monsieur Khan assures me that the immediate danger of Erik starving to death has been banned thanks to my presence and care, but...! But that's all the progress he has made so far. I have been here for two days now, and that's all the improvement. He started to eat more the moment I arrived, but in the two days following there has been no further change. I know I should not lose hope just yet, but I pray with all my heart that this is not permanent, that my dearest Erik can recover!"

Mme. Giry fought back tears. No, she knew it was foolish to expect miracles, and yet... she had to admit that deep down she had hoped that having Christine by his side might pull Erik out of his stupor. Apparently she had been wrong. Once again she wondered if he even had a chance at recovery, since not even Christine's presence had helped him. And she was glad that she had not driven the Vicomte away for good. Who knew, maybe one day Christine would realize that there was no future for her and Erik, and then she might be grateful for her childhood friend's patient waiting for her.


	11. Confrontation

Hi everybody, thank you all so much for reading for putting on alert, for adding to favorites and most of all, to all of my dear reviewers! You really areasource of motivation for me. Now, are you all ready for some drama? I hope you are, for we are approaching a climax of sorts, and yes, as promised, our boy is about to wake up...

Enjoy the new chapter but keep in mind that I do not own these characters!

Chapter 11 – Confrontation

Raoul had to wait another week and a half, before he heard from the postman again. He was in a terrible mood. He had visited the Girys' home twice more during that time, on the off chance that either mother or daughter could be persuaded to tell him where Christine had gone, or that either one might inadvertently say something that would ultimately allow him to find his fiancée. But these two women were obviously determined to keep him away from Christine. Not even his explanations of how a further delay of the wedding would negatively impact Christine's reputation seemed to impress them.

Raoul sighed. Theater folk! Obviously they did not value reputation too highly. Or maybe they did not quite grasp the importance of the concept. Was it so hard to understand that it would be impossible for him to marry Christine if her reputation was not impeccable, and that his family was already giving him subtle hints that his chosen bride was not exactly to their liking?

Raoul also was getting annoyed by Christine's attitude. So she needed some time to herself. As much as it hurt him that she thought she could deal better with the terrible occurrences of a few weeks ago alone than with him, he could at least understand that a certain distance might help her to come to terms with the horrors inflicted upon her by that madman. Kind of. But what he could not understand was why she did not at least write to him. She had been gone for about two weeks by now and he had not heard one word from her. True, Mme. Giry had assured him that she had arrived safely wherever it was she had gone, but... Raoul had to admit that he had hoped to receive a letter of his own sooner or later, but so far – nothing.

Raoul groaned. Christine's continued absence and lack of communication hurt him deeply, and he missed her more every passing day. But unfortunately, her actions had other consequences as well. He was aware that most of his peers were snickering behind his back already about how that commoner, and a theater wench at that, had him do all her bidding, how he gave her all the freedom she wanted, in short, how he apparently had become that woman's lapdog. He could not let things go on that way any longer. He had to do something in order to avoid becoming society's biggest laughing-stock. He had to make Christine follow his wishes, show her who had the say in their relationship. After all, who was she and who was he? Without him, she would be a nobody, forced to tread the stage for all eternity, and by now she would probably already have become the whore of that... that vile creature, that... that thing. Christine owed him, Raoul, her gratitude, her undying love and her obedience for all he had done for her, and he had to make sure she understood that. He could not tolerate her offensive behavior any longer. It was time Christine started to behave like a future Vicomtesse.

Raoul's gloomy thoughts were interrupted by his butler announcing a visitor. "The.. uh … gentleman … uh … asked to talk to you, Sir," the butler said, his face contorted as if he had bitten into a lemon. "It is nobody a person of your standing would know," he added, "I suggested he talk to the cook or if he insisted, me, but he is adamant that he needs to see you."

Raoul's mood was not improved by this information. "I am not talking to impertinent delivery men," he hissed. "Send him away!"

The butler nodded approvingly. "Right away, Monsieur le Vicomte," he promised, then added, "though it is not a delivery man, not quite, that is. To judge from his attire he is with the mail office, though he does not normally deliver our mail, and even if he were replacing a colleague,... that is to say, Sir, he does not have any mail for us."

"Mail? Postman?" Raoul gasped. That had to be his contact, hopefully with information about Christine's whereabouts! "Why didn't you say so in the first place? Quick, bring the man in! He has most likely important news for me!"

The butler rolled his eyes, but did not dare object. He quickly went and showed the waiting postman into Raoul's study.

Raoul eyed the submissively bowing man, then barked at him, before the latter could say even one word, "what took you so long? Do you at least have the answer now?"

The post man nodded. "Your Highness may forgive me," he mumbled, "but I fell ill and could not work for the better part of a week, and because of that I might have missed a letter or two, which is why I could not come to Your Grace any sooner. But today, I had to deliver a letter to that friend of Your Highness again, and the handwriting once again looked as if it had come from a lady, you remember, I told you that before, in case it is important. So I am pretty certain, that the person who is sending her those letters is a woman. There was no return address on the envelope, but I remembered you had told me to look at the stamp and try to find out that way, where it was mailed. And I could read it: it comes from a place called Boscherville."

Raoul beamed. Boscherville – wherever that was – was the place Christine had gone to! He now knew where she was! All he had to do now was to find out how he could best reach that village and then they could get married! He thanked God for his foresight to already procure himself the special license,which was now safely locked in his desk drawer. So he would have to face no delay. It was probably best if they got married right on the spot and moved to Perros for a while, till gossip had died down completely. Maybe he could even pre-date their wedding a bit, to make it look as if they had been secretly married already a while ago. If he could make his peers believe that, he would not have to deal with all those humiliating insinuations any longer about him not being able to control his woman.

"Your information is certainly helpful, even though a bit late," Raoul therefore told his contact. "I am now sure that my friend is corresponding with the person she was hoping to hear from, which is good news for me. I now need not worry about her any longer." And he reached for his wallet, took out a few bills and handed them to the man.

The latter bowed deeply and assured Raoul that it had been a pleasure to help such a noble person and that he would only be too pleased if His Highness remembered how reliable he was in case His Grace had a similar request in the future.

"All right, all right," Raoul told him, feeling slightly annoyed by the man's endless prattling. "Now you may take your leave!"

To his relief, the man took the hint and left. Raoul immediately rang for the butler. "Find out where Boscherville is," Raoul instructed the butler, "and how I can get there as fast as possible! Prepare a suitcase for a few days for me, and get ready to move the household to Perros. I will leave for Boscherville as soon as I know how to get there and will go from there to Perros. You and the rest of the staff will go to Perros directly and will prepare everything for my arrival."

The butler promised to carry out all of his master's wishes, and an hour later he informed Raoul that Boscherville was a small town in the vicinity of Rouen, and that the next train in that direction would be departing the next morning. Would Raoul want him to purchase a ticket for that train?

"Of course!" Raoul ordered. "Why are you even asking? Didn't I tell you, I need to go there as soon as possible?"

The butler immediately sent a footman to the train station to get the ticket, and the next morning Raoul set out for Boscherville, the special marriage license in his breast pocket, ready to get married later that day.

Xxxx

Christine was alone with her Angel. Nadir and Darius had asked her if they could leave her in charge of Erik for a few hours, since they had to go to Rouen to get some supplies that they were not able to purchase at the local store. Christine had told them not to worry, she would take good care of their patient in their absence, she would sing to him and read to him, talk to him, prepare him some lemonade and make sure he drank it. If she needed help with anything, Marie would be only a few steps away in her own home next door.

Nadir had promised that they would be back in maybe two hours. Since the weather was warm and sunny, a truly beautiful spring day, they had brought Erik out to the back terrace and comfortably settled him in a high-backed chair facing the garden. "We are sure that the weather will hold till we are back," the two Persians told Christine. "And Mademoiselle Perrault agrees with us. Should it get a bit chilly, which we do not expect to happen, just wrap Erik in another blanket. Do not attempt to move him back to the house on your own," they had instructed her, "Even though he has lost some weight, he is still too heavy for you."

Christine had nodded and promised to do just as they had told her. She had asked Marie, if she would like to come over as well and help her care for Erik, but the latter had politely declined. Marie thought that some alone-time between just the two of them might do Erik some good.

Christine had pushed her own wicker chair next to Erik's. On a side table at his other side stood a heavy pitcher full of lemonade that Christine had just prepared for her Angel.

"What would you like us to do today, my love?" she cooed to Erik, as if he could understand and answer her. "Shall I sing to you, or read? Do you want me to talk to you or would you prefer just to enjoy the beautiful garden?"

Christine decided on the latter. "The garden, it is," she told Erik. "Look at the fresh green grass, and over there, the first flowers, and the apple tree about to break into full bloom! And do you hear the birds? They are all chirping, happy that it is spring at last and winter is over!"

In order to stimulate Erik, Christine pointed out to him all the wonders of nature in the tiny garden. She even went and picked a few flowers so that he could smell them. "I need to put them into water," she told Erik, "or they will quickly die. I am not leaving you, even if you don't see me for a while, since I have to go into the house to fetch a vase. But," she smiled at him, "to show you that I am still here, I will sing. You will be able to hear my voice!"

Xxxx

Raoul frowned as he exited the train at Boscherville. What a tiny, rural community it was! He was not certain he could find a decent inn there to stay overnight, but even if he found Christine immediately and married her that same afternoon, they would not be able to leave before the next day, for there simply were no trains out of that godforsaken little town in the evening.

He asked for the inn at the train station and arranged for his bag to be delivered there. Then he inquired about a young lady, who must have arrived about two weeks ago, the guest of one of the townspeople. He was informed that that must be the girl staying with Mademoiselle Perrault, and he got directions to her home.

Raoul went to the inn first and made sure he secured their best room for himself. When asked how long he was planning to stay he mumbled something about "a few days, depending on how fast a certain private affair could be resolved."

Then he went in search of Christine. Supposedly this Mademoiselle Perrault she was staying with, lived a bit outside the community, on the road to Rouen. There were just two houses there, he had been told, close together, the smaller one the one he was looking for. That seemed easy enough to him and he was certain he would be able to find this Mademoiselle Perrault's home.

Raoul walked along the road, till he saw the two houses. He knew immediately that he was in the right place, for he could hear somebody singing. No, not somebody, Christine. He knew this voice, and he also knew the song she sang, Elyssa's big aria from her debut performance of "Hannibal".

Raoul smiled "Think of me," he remembered the lyrics, as Christine sang Elyssa's promise that "there will never be a day when I won't think of you!" A love song! Christine was singing a love song, about somebody thinking about their absent love interest. Christine _was_ missing him after all! He should have known. Oh, how happy she would be to see him unexpectedly! She was a good girl, loving and loyal. He was going to surprise her. He was not going to knock on the front door, he was going to jump over the fence and meet her.

Raoul paused for one moment. Hadn't he been told that Mademoiselle Perrault lived in the smaller of the two houses? The singing sounded as if it came from the larger one. He shrugged. He must have misunderstood. The larger house was definitely where Christine was. There was a rather high hedge around it, though, but he was very fit and trim, climbing over that hedge was no problem for him, and the fact that these two houses were so far away from the rest of the village worked in his favor. Nobody could see him and accuse him of intruding.

Raoul quickly went over the hedge, then walked around the house towards the back garden, form where the singing was coming.

He had just rounded the corner, when he saw Christine, a vase filled with water in hand, approaching a side-table next to two chairs, on which some spring flowers were lying. She was reaching the end of the aria right now.

"Christine," Raoul grinned at her. "Surprise!"

The last note died in Christine's throat, and the vase fell out of her hands, shattering into dozens of little glass shards, spilling water all over the terrace floor.

"Raoul," she whispered, as her hands flew to her heart. "How... why... what are you doing here?" She instinctively moved away from the table and the chair Erik was sitting in, trying to lure Raoul as far away from Erik as possible, while she tried to figure out, whether or not Raoul could actually see Erik, from where he was standing.

"What kind of a welcome is that?" Raoul asked. "Aren't you glad to see me, Lotte?"

Christine swallowed. She had to protect Erik. She had to make sure that Raoul did not notice him, that Raoul did not realize she was not alone.

"Of course," she mumbled, "It's just, I did not expect you, you scared me. I did not know, anybody was approaching, I thought I was alone..."

Raoul opened his arms. "No offense taken," he said, "but now you know it's me, darling! I have great news for you. I came to tell you that I have secured a special marriage license for us and that we can get married this very afternoon. We just have to go to the church, show the priest the license, and then he will marry us, and the mayor will take care of the civil wedding."

Christine shuddered. She could not marry Raoul! She could not go with him! She did not love him that way, it would not be right, and besides, her Angel needed her. She cold not leave him, she had to stay here. But she also knew that it would be next to impossible to make Raoul understand that she had been mistaken about loving him, especially if she wanted to leave her Angle out of it completely. And it hurt her to think that she would cause Raoul some pain and disappointment.

"Oh Raoul,"she therefore said," taking his hand and leading him even further away from Erik's chair, which was now behind Raoul's back. "I do not think we should do this. Getting married, I mean. No, don't interrupt me, let me finish," she pleaded with him. "I do care for you, in fact a lot, and I am grateful for all you have done for me, but... a Vicomte and a singer do not fit. This probably would not work out even if I did love you beyond reason, which I don't. I am sorry," she said, squeezing his hand. "I truly thought I loved you, and in a way I do, but it's more the way one would love a brother or a cousin..."

"Christine, stop that madness right away!" Raoul threatened, a bit more forcefully than he had intended to. He could not believe she was actually turning him down. "You promised to marry me, you are my fiancée. I have waited long enough. I have the license, you will follow me to the church right away so that we can get married!"

"No," Christine tried again, in her most soothing voice. "Please Raoul, understand. We would both end up being miserable, if we got married. Even if you do love me as you say, your family does not approve of me, and you would have to face all sorts of problems because of marrying me, which would ultimately kill your love. Please, believe me, it is best to break our engagement and part as friends!"

"And have all of Paris laugh at me for having been lead on by you?" Raoul hissed, his patience finally at an end. "You are bound to me for better or worse. You will honor your promise and come with me to the church!" He yanked at her arm again and Christine escaped a sharp hiss of pain.

Xxxx

Erik was feeling restless. Something did not feel right. Just a few moments ago all had been so peaceful. He had dreamed his Christine was beside him, talking to him, singing to him, but now... He allowed his mind to approach the tiny fissure in his thick, protective walls, to listen to the outside world. He frowned. He seemed to hear his Christine arguing with somebody. What kind of strange dream was that? Was that maybe now a nightmare haunting him, memories of her talking to other people, other men, especially that boy?

Erik did not need to be reminded of her talking to her boy and he was about to retreat into the depths of his subconscious again, when he thought he heard a suppressed cry of pain – from Christine. No, he told himself. That was just his imagination. Christine was not here in the first place. That he had thought to hear her sing earlier had just been a dream, and even if she were here, she would not cry in pain, she would most likely stand in front of him and repeat all the hateful words she had flung at him that night. No, Christine was not here, nor was she in pain.

But... He hesitated. What if she was? If for some strange reason she was here and in need of help? What if he just shut himself off in his cozy little prison and let her come to harm? Could it hurt to check? If this had been a dream and she was not there, surely he could go back to his safe little haven, rebuild his walls, lock himself away from the world again?

Erik's decision was made. With one final effort he shattered his walls and returned to the world.


	12. Awake

WOW! Just WOW, WOW, WOW! You truly seem to have enjoyed the last chapter! I got record reviews for that one. So does that mean, you all love Raoul-heavy chapters? (just kidding, just kidding, don't throw the rotten tomatoes at me!)

Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you all for reading, for putting on alert, adding to favorites, and to all of you lovely reviewers! I am beyond thrilled by all your excited remarks! So - it seems the fop does serve a purpose after all, even though it is ultimately Erik's concern for Christine, that brought him out of it. Now let's see what happens, when our boy wakes up... and keep in mind that I do not own These characters...

Chapter 12 – Awake

It all happened so fast. One moment Christine was struggling with Raoul, begging him to release her arm, since he was hurting her, the next moment, his eyes suddenly glazed over, his hands went to his head, thus freeing Christine, he stumbled and then he fell unconsciously to the floor.

"Raoul!" Christine knelt down next to him, worried about his sudden collapse. "What is the matter with you? Answer me, are you ill?" Her eyes widened, as she spotted shards of glass and a puddle of lemonade next to the Vicomte's head. The pieces of glass did not look as if they belonged to the vase she had dropped earlier, but rather to the heavy pitcher she had left for Erik on the side table.

"What...?" Christine's eyes followed the trail of lemonade and there, collapsed on the floor, the handle of the broken pitcher still in his hand, his chest heaving, a look of utter disorientation on his beloved, hideous face, was Erik.

"Angel!" Christine flew to his side, sat down next to him and put a supporting arm around him. "You are awake!"

Erik blinked. He did not quite understand what had just happened. He was not even sure he _was_ awake. Christine leaving that unconscious bloke's side, who looked suspiciously like her boy, and touching him of her own free will - surely this could not really happen, surely he was still dreaming?

Christine smiled at him. "I was so worried about you, Angel," she cooed. "I feared you would never return to me." And she lovingly caressed his deformed cheek.

Erik inhaled sharply. She felt so real. Could this be...? "Chr... Chri... Christine?" he stammered incredulously, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

Christine nodded. "Yes, Erik, it is me. I am here with you, and I am so relieved that you are finally awake again!"

Erik shook his head to free his mind. He had not the slightest idea what was going on. He recognized the surroundings of his childhood, even though the house was painted a different color now and the flower beds in the garden had been rearranged. But he had no recollection at all, of how he had come here, or what he was doing here.

As to the presence of Christine and that boy of hers – that was yet another complete mystery to him. How on earth could they have found out about his parents' home? Erik frowned. He looked at the handle of the broken pitcher that he was still holding, then to the unconscious Vicomte.

"Did I...?" he asked, looking at the injured man. "This pitcher?" Then he remembered. He had thought he had heard Christine utter a soft cry of pain. He had wanted to come to her rescue. He must have instinctively grabbed whatever heavy object he could reach and hit her attacker over the head, then, exhausted from the exertion he had collapsed as well. But he had had no idea his victim had been her boy!

"I am so sorry," he told Christine. "I did not mean to hurt … him. I know how much he means to you. I did not know it was him. I thought you were in danger and needed help, because you made a sound as if you were in pain."

Christine's heart opened wide. Erik's words were the most wonderful declaration of love she could imagine. "For me?" she asked softly. "That's why you came back, why you woke up? Because you realized I needed help?"

Erik nodded. "I did not want to leave my safe haven," he remembered, "but I could not risk you coming to harm."

Christine beamed. "After all I did to you, after all my betrayals, you still came to my rescue," she told Erik, wrapping her arms around him.

"Christine, what is going on there?" they suddenly heard a voice. "Are you all right?" Nadir rounded the corner and froze as he took in the scene in front of him: the unconscious Vicomte, the broken vase and pitcher, the puddles of water and lemonade, and, in the middle of all that chaos, Christine and – Erik. A very befuddled and disorientated, but obviously alert Erik.

"Erik!" Nadir grinned. "You are awake!"

Erik nodded. "I guess I am," he rasped, his voice still uneasy. "Though it all feels like a dream. I have no idea what is going on, how I got here, what you all are doing here, especially _him_." He pointed at the Vicomte.

"Raoul suddenly was there," Christine explained. "I do not know how he got here, or how he could even have entered, he never knocked or rang the doorbell!"

"It seems he climbed over the fence," Nadir stated. "When I saw the broken twigs and damaged foliage, I was worried."

Christine nodded in understanding. "I see," she said. "I guess he wanted to surprise me," she tried to excuse her fiancé. Then she shuddered. "He came to marry me," she whispered. "He said he had gotten us the special license and I should come to church with him to get married."

When she saw the pained look on Erik's face, she pulled him even closer. "Don't worry, Angel," she told him softly. "I will not marry him. I do care for him, but he is only like a brother to me."

She looked back at Nadir. "I told him that, and also that this would most likely not even work out if I _did_ love him beyond reason, which I don't. It could not work, for various reasons. Because his family does not approve of me, and because I would not be able to sing anymore. That's when he got angry. He said if I don't marry him, he'd become the laughing-stock of all of Paris, or something like that, and he grabbed my arm to force me to come with him."

She shook her head. "I am not quite sure about what happened then. I think I groaned with pain, and Erik must have somehow heard me. He feared for my safety and came to my rescue." She lovingly smiled at Erik again. "You were just in time, Angel," she cooed.

Nadir frowned. The whole situation seemed a mess to him. What were they going to do now? After all, a member of the French nobility, and member of an influential family, at that, had been attacked and injured. True, the latter had been trespassing, and the damaged hedge was proof of that. But would the authorities see things the same way, if the Vicomte decided to raise charges, once he woke up?

One thing was clear to Nadir, though. Erik had to be kept out of this. But was this even possible? Was there a chance that the Vicomte had not seen Erik yet? Surely if he had, the conversation between him and Christine would have been a different one?

"Christine, Erik, we must act quickly," Nadir therefore said. "But first of all, tell me, did the Vicomte see you, Erik? Is he aware that you are here?"

Erik helplessly shook his head. "I do not know," he admitted.

"I do not think so," Christine chimed in. "I tried my best to keep Raoul away from Erik's chair, and he certainly did not say anything about him. Surely, he would have done so, if he had seen Erik?"

Nadir nodded. "Good," he commented. "That's one point in our favor. Now, let's make sure he won't see him when he wakes, either. Erik, do you think you can make it over to your godmother's house? The shortcut through the hedge, you know that, right? Christine, help him, you two, hurry, explain the situation to Mademoiselle Marie. I will take care of the Vicomte. When he wakes, I will say, I hit him, because I thought he was attacking the young lady from next door, who is helping us with the household chores."

Christine nodded. She quickly stood and held a hand out to Erik to help him up. "Come, Angel," she cooed, "let's try and get you to safety. Mademoiselle Marie will be so thrilled to see you are finally awake!"

With Christine's help, Erik managed to get back on his feet. God, did he feel weak! He must have been sick for a long time. The last thing he remembered, it had been winter, and now the garden was in full bloom. He made a note to ask Christine, or better Nadir, about the nature and duration of his illness later.

Supported by Christine, Erik stumbled to the hedge and through it to the familiar little house of his godmother. He hated it that he was so weak and that the effort to reach Marie and the safety of her home was so great that he could not really concentrate on the heavenly feeling of Christine clinging to him, her arm wrapped around his waist, holding him, supporting him.

A few minutes later the two of them reached Marie's backdoor. Christine knocked and called softly, "Mademoiselle Perrault, open the door, quick!"

Marie went to see, why Christine needed help with the door. Her mouth dropped open when she saw a heavily panting Christine, and Erik – ERIK! Finally alert and conscious, but close to collapsing from walking just the few steps from the terrace of his own home to her backdoor.

She beamed. "Erik, my dear boy," she whispered, "thank God, you are finally awake!"

"For me," Christine told her, "he came back for me – to help me."

"You can tell me later," Marie interrupted her. "First, let's get Erik in and make him comfortable." She wrapped one arm around the weak man as well and together the two ladies managed to lead Erik into Marie's parlor, where they made him lie down on the sofa.

Erik objected only weakly. As much as he hated being so debilitated and helpless in the presence of the ladies, he knew he needed the rest – badly. He felt disoriented and confused. He still had no idea how he had ended up in his hometown, of all places, and what everybody else was doing here. Well, Marie of course lived here, but what about Nadir and Christine, and the Vicomte?

Christine in particular was a mystery to him. She looked at him, as if she actually cared about him. Him – the monster, that she had called all sorts of names once. He shuddered as he remembered that night. His soul was distorted, she had said, and Erik had to admit that she had a point. While he had never been a false friend to her, as she had also claimed, he had done lots of terrible things in his life. She had talked of hate, too, and accused him of planning to rape her, and she had asked her God for courage when she had promised to stay with him in order to save her boy's life. But now...

Now was different. Now, Christine seemed eager to touch him, to hold him, to caress him. Now she looked at him as if... as if he were the most wonderful person in the world. Now her eyes were full of love and adoration, of tenderness and concern for his well-being. Erik was at a complete loss as to what that meant, but he basked in Christine's loving attention. He felt in Heaven.

Christine, on the other hand, had troubles believing that the miracle had finally happened. That Erik was truly back. She had to constantly look at him, touch him, make him talk, in order to make sure her Angel was finally on the way to recovery.

Marie quickly realized that the two needed some time alone, to sort things out between them. As much as she would have liked to stay with them and shower her re-found godson with love, she decided that now was not the time. First, he needed to come to terms with the current situation and Christine's changed feelings for him. Then he would have time for his old godmother as well.

"I will see if I can prepare you a light meal," she therefore announced. "Erik, we need to rebuild your strength, my boy." And before either Erik or Christine could object, she left for the kitchen.

There was a long silence. Neither Erik nor Christine knew what to say, how to start the conversation. They suddenly realized that they were alone – and that Christine was still holding Erik's hand.

Erik finally cleared his throat. "I do not understand," he said.

Christine looked down. She suddenly remembered that she had given Erik clear signs that she loved him – and she felt embarrassed. Had he noticed? Was he now thinking she was too brazen?

"What do you not understand?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Everything," Erik admitted. "The last thing I remember was you leaving with – him. But that must have been weeks, if not months ago. It was winter then, and now... "

Christine nodded. "I do not know everything," she explained. "For details, you will have to ask Monsieur Khan. Apparently you somehow escaped the fire at the Opéra Populaire and made your way to his home."

Erik frowned. "I have no memory of that," he confessed.

"That's probably because you were already ill then," Christine surmised. "Monsieur Khan says, you were running a high fever, when you arrived at his home." she looked down guiltily. "Because of me," she sighed. "It was a nervous fever, and it almost killed you. A fever brought on by depression and a broken heart."

Erik felt almost physical pain, when he saw the contrite look on Christine's face. "That was my fault alone," he tried to comfort her. "Don't take it so hard. It was not your fault that you could not love a monster like me."

Tears were now forming in Christine's eyes. "You are no monster," she said. "You had been my best friend and teacher for so many years, I should have known that despite all the evidence to the contrary, you are a decent man." She reached for his hand. "I caused you so much pain," she sobbed. "My rejection and betrayal almost killed you. How can you ever forgive me?"

"I tried to force you to love me," Erik reminded her. "That was terrible of me. I should never have treated you that way. I should have accepted your choice of a husband." His eyes suddenly widened as he remembered that they had left the Vicomte unconscious in Nadir's care. "I just hurt him again!" he exclaimed, guilt-stricken. "Oh Christine, believe me, I did not want to harm the man you love, I must have been so confused, I thought he was attacking you..."

Christine took a deep breath. As embarrassing and inappropriate as it was, she had to tell Erik about her changed feelings, about the fact that she did no longer want to marry Raoul.

"Erik," she said softly, looking at him with love. "Listen to me, Angel, please. There is something I need to tell you. I … do not love Raoul the way a woman loves her husband. I thought I did, but I was mistaken. He is very dear to me, we spent some wonderful time together when we were children. Some of my fondest childhood memories are about him. But," she smiled at Erik. "That's it. He is like a brother to me, or a cousin. That is the way I love him. Not as a husband. And, Erik, now that I have realized that, I will not be marrying him. I know it is a bit late for that decision, and I can understand that he was annoyed when I told him I wanted to break up the engagement, but I cannot. We would both end up miserable, if I married him. And Raoul _was_ trying to drag me to the church so that we could get married," she reminded Erik. "I did tell him that he was hurting me, but he did not release me. I am glad you came to my rescue, Angel."

Erik nodded, still confused. Why was Christine telling him that? So she was not going to marry that boy. But she would of course soon have another suitor, and sooner or later, she would meet the one she wanted to marry. Did it really matter, who it was she chose, since it could not – would not – ever be him?

"So you forgive me for attacking him?" he asked contritely.

Christine beamed at him. "I am so happy, you finally woke up," she told him. "We were all beginning to lose hope... and I could never be mad at you for helping me, when I need help. If you had not come out of your stupor, I might now be married to Raoul."

Erik frowned again. "Stupor?" he asked. "Why is everybody so surprised that I am awake? What is wrong with me? Surely, I am over that fever that you mentioned."

Christine looked down. How did you tell somebody that they had been similar to a living puppet for weeks, unable to move even one single digit, unresponsive, completely helpless and vulnerable?

"The fever almost killed you," she began hesitantly. "Monsieur Khan finally tried some concoction on you that he remembered from his home country, and that saved your life. But …."

"What is it you are not telling me?" Erik asked.

"You never regained consciousness!" Christine blurted out. "The condition is called catatonia," she added. "Monsieur Khan studied up on it. It is caused by depression." She sounded utterly miserable now, for she knew that he had suffered through this humiliating condition because of her.

"Catatonia?" Erik shuddered. He was aware of that illness, though he had never come across anybody suffering from it. "You mean... I could not move or talk or anything? No interaction whatsoever with anybody?"

Christine nodded. "None," she whispered.

"How long?" Erik asked.

"Several weeks," Christine replied. "We were beginning to lose hope you would ever return to us."

"We?" Erik just remembered that there were even more things that needed explaining. "I thought Nadir was trying to nurse me back to health. How did you get involved? And how did we all end up here?"


	13. Confession

Hi everybody,

first of all, I am sorry I did not update last week. I had thought I would be able to do so, but I did not get around. Please forgive me for the Long wait!

Second, thank you to each and every one of you who has reviewed - you truly are special! Of course many thanks also go to all of you, who are reading this Story, who have put it on alert or added it to favorites. You all Keep me motivated and make me want to write more for you!

Now back to our story, I bet you are all eager to see how our two love-birds will deal with the Situation, but please keep in mind that I do not own these charcacters, any situations or quotes that you may find in this chapter.

Chapter 13 – Confession

Christine hesitated. What could she say? The truth, that she loved him? But if she did, how would he react? Would he even believe her after all that had happened between them? And even if he did – would he still want her? She had hurt him so badly, had caused him so much pain and suffering, both physically and emotionally – was it not possible that his love for her had died because of all he had gone through?

"I... I came here a short while ago," she finally said. "I wanted to help you, Angel. I hoped that my presence might bring you out of that illness you were suffering from."

Erik shook his head. He did not understand. "But how did you know?" he asked. "About my – condition." He winced inwardly at the thought of how undignified it was that he had needed help with even the most basic functions and his cheeks burned with shame as he realized that he would not even have been able to wipe his butt on his own. He seriously hoped Christine had not been the one to do that. It was bad enough to think of Nadir serving him in that way. "And that I was here?"

Christine swallowed hard. How could she explain that? "Mme. Giry knew," she finally mumbled. "She had been in contact with Monsieur Khan. He thought that your illness – the fever – had been caused by something that had happened that night, and since you were not able to tell him about it, he asked Madame if she had learned something from me."

Erik nodded. That made sense. Even though he had never introduced his two friends to one another, he had made sure, they both knew how to reach out to the other in case of an emergency. His illness obviously had prompted Nadir to get in touch with Antoinette.

"But why am I here?" Erik continued his inquiry. "And why did Antoinette tell you about it all? Wasn't she glad, you were finally safe? That I could not bother you with my unrequited love any longer?"

"Madame was concerned about you," Christine replied. "She still is. I will have to write to her immediately and tell her that you are awake and will hopefully soon make a full recovery."

Erik frowned. "I somehow do not see Antoinette telling you about my condition, no matter how worried she might have been about me," he said. "There is something you are not telling me!"

Christine flinched at his accusation. He was right, oh how right he was. She had not quite told him that she loved him, even though she had been showing him her feelings openly. Was he still so weak and confused that he had not noticed? Or did he doubt the sincerity of her love? Why did he not say anything to encourage her? Something – anything – that would tell her that he still cared for her, still wanted her love?

"Monsieur Khan had found out that stimulating your senses might be a way to help you recover," she therefore evaded Erik's question. "Which is why he decided to bring you here and hope that nature and it's wonders might do the trick."

"Yes, yes," Erik hissed. He was getting impatient. He could understand why Nadir had brought him here, and also, that Nadir would have told Antoinette about his plan to move him to Boscherville. But how had Christine learned about his whereabouts? And why would she have cared about his condition? The last thing he remembered was her begging her God for strength to allow her to go through with her decision to stay with him and of her leaving with that boy afterwards. Surely, if she detested him that much, she could not have been bothered by is condition? What had they promised her to make her come here and help care for him?

"But what about you? Nothing of what you have told me so far explains what you are doing here!" Erik bellowed at Christine.

Christine looked down. "I came to help," she tried again to explain her presence. "I … I do not want you to suffer, Angel. I never meant to hurt you so badly. I... " Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes as she remembered how utterly cruel she had been to her Angel the night of "Don Juan".

"Please forgive me," she suddenly begged, tears now falling freely. "Oh Angel, you have no idea how much the knowledge of what I did to you tormented me! To know that all you have been through recently was my fault!"

"So it is guilt?" Erik asked pointedly, more to make sure he himself accepted that truth than to question Christine's words. "You feel guilty and therefore need to help me in some way to appease your conscience? Is that it?"

"No!" Christine sobbed. How could he believe that? "It's not that! I do care for you, Angel, please, you must believe me! Remember? We used to be friends!"

Erik sighed. "That was a long time ago," he reminded her. "Before you knew who and what I was. Before you knew about – that!" He grunted in disgust as he pointed to his hideous, bare face. "And about my crimes," he added softly, awaiting her final condemnation.

"I know there are horrors in your past," Christine whispered, "but hasn't everybody done things that they wish they could make undone? I have treated you horribly, too. I almost killed you with my betrayal. Does that really make me any better than you? Do I really have the right to condemn you for your acts of desperation? And as to your face..." She smiled. "It is unusual, I'll grant you that, and it may take some time getting used to it, but... it is the face of my dear Angel, that's all that matters to me."

Erik looked at her in wonder. She sounded so sincere. "You truly mean that?" he asked. "You do not fear me anymore? You do not think I will kill a thousand men without as much as a regret? You do not think I will hunt you down wherever you go?"

Christine laughed. "Of course not, silly!" she told Erik. Then she turned serious again. "I was confused," she admitted. "And maybe I was listening too much to others..." She did not specifically mention Raoul, though they both knew she meant mostly him. "I should never have done that," she continued. "After all, I knew you! We had been friends for about ten years, you had been nothing but kind and caring and understanding. I should never have doubted you or your heart. I should have known that you are a good person."

Erik sighed. "You are too kind," he told her. "Those who told you that you should fear me did have a point. I can be quite dangerous." He looked down in shame. "Those hands have killed, Christine," he confessed. "Many, many times!"

Christine swallowed. "I know," she admitted. "Buquet, and Piangi... "

Erik shook his head. "Not just them. There were others, before..."

Christine reached for his hand and pressed it. "I think I have figured that out as well," she told him. "But I also know that you do not kill indiscriminately and for fun. If you did, there would have been far more deaths at the Opéra Populaire over the past ten years than just these two." She gave him a pointed look. "I am sure there was a reason why you killed Buquet, and instead of getting scared, I should have approached you and asked you what exactly had happened between you and him, but instead, I just assumed the worst and condemned you..."

"Which was probably a wise decision," Erik groaned. "I am a very dangerous man and a violent one. Though I would never have harmed you," he informed Christine, his voice suddenly soft and caressing.

"I know that," Christine assured him. "And I also know that you will not harm others unless provoked or in self-defense. Do not let the horrors of your past get in the way of a better future. I am confident that you will not resort to violence any more."

"Oh Christine, if only you knew!" Erik groaned. "I will have no other choice! I assume that I am a wanted criminal now. Even if I do nothing but try to leave France, my life will be at risk. Marie will not be able to hide me indefinitely."

Christine squeezed his hand. "We will find a way," she told him. "I will help you, so will Monsieur Khan, Mademoiselle Marie and Madame Giry. We do care for you. Keep that in mind, Angel. I told you once that you are not alone, and I am reminding you of that fact once again."

Erik closed his eyes in frustration. Oh, he remembered only too well, when she had told him those words for the first time. It had been, when she had agreed to become his fiancée in order to save that foppish Vicomte. To show him she meant what she said, she had put on the engagement ring and … she had kissed him. Those had been the first and so far only kisses Erik had received in his entire life, and despite the horrors of that night, this particular memory still had a bittersweet taste of happiness.

"This was a show!" Erik groaned. "You said it then to save your boy. You never meant it! And those kisses..." Erik looked into the far distance. "It was all a lie," he murmured. "But a beautiful one," he added absentmindedly. „And for a moment I almost believed it..."

Christine looked up. Erik had sounded so full of longing, as if... as if despite everything he still loved and wanted her. Did she dare hope?

„I may have had ulterior motives then," she admitted. „And I certainly was trying to put on a good show, but..." She hesitated. „It was not you I fooled, it was myself. I did not realize it then, but it... it was no show. I..." She turned red as lobster. „I had always wondered what it might be like... I mean... it had been more on a subconscious level... but now I know that I had always wanted to..."

Erik stared at Christine in utter confusion. „I do not understand one word you are saying," he informed her. „Would you mind trying to be a little bit more consistent?"

"I... " Christine could not face him. "Those kisses..." her voice was barely above a whisper and even Erik with his acute hearing had to listen carefully in order not to miss one word she said. "They were …. the most... wonderful... "

Erik's jaw dropped. "You... you were not disgusted?" he asked incredulously. "You... enjoyed...?"

Christine nodded, unable to speak. Tears of shame for confessing to him how much she had enjoyed kissing him, running freely down her cheeks.

"Christine, look at me!" Erik's voice was soft, but commanding. Christine could not help but look up and face his puzzled look. "Do you..." Erik hesitated again. "Are you saying that... that you might not have found it so hard after all to stay with me?"

Christine nodded again. "Yes," she whispered. "I did not realize it then, I was too confused, too much had happened in such a short time, and I most certainly was not thinking clearly, but yes, if you had not sent me away..." She realized only after she had uttered those words that they actually held an accusation, and that she had in a way felt hurt when he had apparently turned her down.

"I mean, if you had not let me and Raoul go," Christine corrected herself, "I don't think I would have ended up miserable."

"But if _he_ asked you to honor your promise and marry him now, you _would_ think you might become unhappy?" Erik inquired, not quite sure he had understood her correctly. "At least, that's what you said a while ago?"

"Yes..." Christine looked up and nodded.

Erik felt dizzy. Could it be...? Did she mean what he thought she was telling him? That she... that staying with him might have made her less miserable than marrying her boy? She _had_ been fighting the Vicomte. And she did say that she had tried to make the boy understand that she did not want to marry him.

"Christine," Erik's voice suddenly sounded husky and full of longing. "Are you trying to tell me that... that we might actually have had a chance... if... if I had properly courted you instead of trying to force you into marriage?"

Christine sighed. "Why do you ask, Angel?" she whispered. "Does it matter what could have been?"

"It does," Erik said, hesitantly reaching for her hand. "Unless... I mean,... except you have changed your mind and don't feel that way anymore? That you would not end up as miserable if you married me instead of... him?"

Christine broke down in tears. "How can you ask that, Erik?" she whispered. "That night, I took the first step and you … you rejected me, in a way at least. Do you really think I will throw myself at you and risk rejection again?"

Erik forced a smile. "It is not you that has to fear rejection," he told her. "But me. Therefore I must be a hundred percent certain of your reaction or I will not be able to summon the courage to..."

"To do what?" Christine asked, suddenly full of hope that everything would turn out fine, that he still loved her and would be able to forgive her, that their pain and sorrow would finally be things of the past.

"To..." Erik locked eyes with her to gauge her reaction to his request. "Kiss you...?"

Christine beamed. "I would love that very much," she admitted.

She had barely finished the phrase when she felt Erik's misshapen lips crush down on hers. Christine sighed with relief, closed her eyes, and parted her lips to let Erik's tongue enter her mouth where it was met by her own for a passionate dance. She felt his arms coming up around her and melted into his embrace, while reaching for his face and caressing his deformed cheek.

The moment felt timeless. Neither of them was aware of anything around them, nothing mattered than the fact that they were together, in each other's arms, and that they loved each other.

Xxxx

In the meantime, Nadir and Darius, who had secured the carriage they had used for their trip to Rouen and taken care of the horse, before following his master, had carried Raoul into the parlour and laid the unconscious man down on the sofa. While doing so, Nadir explained to Darius what had happened, that Erik was finally awake, but that they had to try and make sure the Vicomte would not suspect that his rival was here. In order to avoid being overheard by the awakening Vicomte, Nadir talked in his native Farsi.

Once Darius was informed of how he should behave, the two men tried their best to bring Raoul back to consciousness.

"What the heck? Who dares...?" Raoul groaned as he finally came to and remembered that he had been trying to drag Christine to the church so that they could get married, when something had hit him over the head.

"Welcome back, Monsieur," Nadir grinned at him. "I am sorry, I hit you so hard that you passed out, that certainly was not my intention, but I had a feeling that the young lady from next door, who helps us with the cleaning of the house, was being attacked, especially since the hedge in front of the house looked as if somebody had forcibly gained access..."

"Who are you, and what is your business interfering with my private affairs?" Raoul hissed, his bad mood increasing because of the pain he felt at the back of his head. "That lady is my fiancée and I was discussing our wedding with her."

"Oh, forgive me, Monsieur," Nadir smoothly replied. "How impolite of me! Allow me to introduce myself. Khan is my name, Nadir Khan. I am here on vacation. I have rented this house for a few weeks, and the lady next door and the young lady staying with her help me with the household. They are proper ladies. I do not think that Mademoiselle Christine would associate with people that damage somebody else's property, such as the hedge in front of this house. That's the way of a thief, an intruder, not the way of a fiancé." Nadir gave Raoul a stern look.

Raoul groaned. "Don't you dare talk to me like that," he hissed at Nadir, even more annoyed by the latter's disapproving tone, and very well aware, that this oriental-looking man with the foreign name did have a point. "I am the Vicomte de Chagny, you will treat me with respect!"

Then he remembered something. "Christine!" he demanded. "Where is she? You are hiding her from me! I told you the lady is my fiancée. She will confirm my words. In fact, I came to tell her that I had finally managed to procure me the marriage license. We were about to leave for the church, so that we could get married!"

"That's not the way it looked to me," Nadir stated. "And I repeat, a person with honorable intentions would not force his way into a property. They would knock on the front door."

"I wanted to surprise her!" Raoul hissed. "Can you not understand that? The impatience, the passion?" He shook his head. "Apparently not. You obviously have never been in love yourself."

Nadir smiled his enigmatic smile, but did not reply.

"So where is Christine now?" Raoul asked again. "Bring her here, so that she can confirm my words. I say it once again, don't keep her away from me!"

Nadir nodded. He looked over at Darius. "Darius, will you be so kind and head over to Mademoiselle Marie's home and ask her if she and Mademoiselle Christine would have the kindness to come over? When you have talked to them, you could continue to the village store and get the few items that we talked about earlier."

Darius nodded. He had understood. "Of course, Master," he announced. "I will go at once." And he made his way to Marie's home to fetch the two ladies and to keep Erik company while Marie and Christine would be talking to Raoul. Marie had to come with Christine to act as her chaperone, but Erik needed somebody with him. Their boy might be awake again, but he was still recovering. They would not want to leave him alone.


End file.
